


Blood Bond

by HotMolasses



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Will, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Murder Sex, Omega!Hannibal, Porn With Plot, very bloody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 71,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotMolasses/pseuds/HotMolasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a modern, civilized society, most people take suppressants to keep their Alpha or omegan attribute from ever developing.  Hannibal of course does no such thing, and is an omega desperate to awaken the Alpha in Will.  He finally succeeds when they kill the Dragon together, causing Will to go into rut immediately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr! [evenunevenme](http://evenunevenme.tumblr.com/)

“The Chesapeake Ripper.” Will said, staring down at the latest of his victims, Price and Zeller stepping away to allow him the unhindered ability to circle the corpse as he pleased, “Is not an Alpha.”

              Everyone in the room stared at him like he had three heads, Jack hardest of all.

              “Will, with this level of violence and …”

              “With this level of _precision_ ,” Will went on, cutting Jack off, gesturing at the neat, precise cuts inside the body with his gloved finger, “This attacker pays an _intense_ amount of interest to detail.  Such that only omegas have been known to show.”

              Jack’s eyebrow went up further, if that was possible.

              “Will, the number of cases of omegas committing violent crimes…”

              “Is not zero.” Will stated, ripping his gloves off and tossing them in the trash. 

              “True, there are enough cases to warrant a single omega prison _for the entire country, Will_.”

              “And how many violent omegas don’t get arrested, Jack,” Will said, blinking his eyes in rapid succession and looking to the side of Jack, the way he did when he was agitated, “because of the closed-mindedness of authorities?  Because I assure you, the _knife_ didn’t particularly care about the gender of the hand that held it, nor did Mr…” Will yanked the file out of Price’s hands and flipped it open “…Struthers, when he was bleeding out due to his organs being removed.  The killer is an omega.  You’re looking at all the wrong suspects.”

              With that, he shoved the door to the morgue open and let it slam angrily behind him, Price raising his eyebrows and locking his gaze with Zeller, who pretended to suddenly be very interested in his microscope.

             

              That had been more than three years ago.  When Will started crying that the Ripper was Hannibal, that was one of the facts Jack kept throwing in his face, over and over again…that _he himself_ had said the Ripper was an omega, and Hannibal was a beta!  One of the most vanilla, straight-arrowed betas ever to walk the Earth, Hannibal didn’t have a drop of sexuality in him.  _Nobody_ had ever scented a _single whiff_ of pheromone from Hannibal.  When Will insisted they perform a blood test, Jack had become enraged and stormed out of BSHCI, shouting at the top of his lungs, in very typical Alpha fashion.

              Now, Will and Hannibal stood in his beach house at the top of the cliff, waiting for another Alpha to arrive—the most dangerous of all creatures, an _unmated_ Alpha.  Illegal because of their extremely violent tendencies, all Alphas were, by law, demanded to be mated shortly after their awakening, before their first rut, or they would be imprisoned until a willing mate had been found for them.  For this reason, awakened Alphas had become very rare, with modern drugs that would keep them in their adolescent beta state perpetually, and for the most part, most parents wanted their omegan children to remain in their beta state, as well.

              Thus in a civilized society, almost everyone presented as beta, to the point that almost everyone took awakening-suppressant drugs, even betas.  It wasn’t worth taking the chance that you might suddenly awaken as one of the two more volatile genders, and lose your civility.  Pairs like Jack and Bella were becoming increasingly rare in modern times, especially in the younger generations, with more couples choosing to reproduce using the male-female dynamic, rather than the Alpha-omega one.

               This was why narrowing down the suspect pool to omegas would greatly increase the chances of catching the culprit.  Except somehow, Will was convinced, Hannibal was _hiding_ it.  He _was_ awakened; and he _was_ an omega; Will couldn’t explain _how_ he knew, _he just knew_.  Hannibal had a powerful sense of smell, so he had to be an awakened _something_ , yet his demeanor was _infuriatingly_ calm, _all_ the time, to the point that it was calming to Will, a man prone to being overly-emotional and not easy to calm in most situations. 

              This was entirely, somehow, related to the fact that he was a vicious, horrifying killer.  Will knew it because he could _feel_ it; he just didn’t know _why_.

              And now they stood, drinking wine in Hannibal’s house, Hannibal pretending as if they weren’t enemies, and Will unsure where he stood.  Again.  As always.

              “Do you intend to watch him kill me?” Hannibal asked as he cleaned the wine glasses with a cloth.

              “I intend to watch him change you.” Will replied, still utterly unable to commit to any action.  He couldn’t kill Hannibal no matter how badly he wanted to, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to side with him, either.  That kind of indecision seemed to rule his life now; perhaps _he_ was an omega, if he ever stopped taking the suppressants and allowed himself to awaken and find out.

              And then, without warning, Hannibal’s stomach blew apart.  Will watched him fall to the ground as adrenaline surged through his body.  The Dragon marched out of the darkness towards him and Will found himself rooted in place; torn between wanting to go to Hannibal, run from the Dragon, and attack.  He couldn’t decide, again; and so he stood where he was.

              “Don’t run.” the Dragon said.  “I’ll catch you.”

              Will didn’t react .

              “Hello, Francis.” Hannibal said as he panted on the floor.  Still completely put together.  The Alpha towered over him and glared down.

              “Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

              The two of them exchanged words, and Will tried to listen, but for some reason he found it hard to focus.  The Dragon was setting up a camera on a tripod, explaining that he was going to film Hannibal’s death.

              Hannibal was speaking to him, but his eyes flicked up to Will’s face, his expression… _pleading_.  Will felt things shift inside himself.  He’d never seen Hannibal vulnerable before.  The instinct within him was to answer Hannibal’s plea; was to go to him, was to protect.

              He laughed at the idea that _Hannibal Lecter_ needed or even should be protected.         

              Then the Dragon turned and attacked.  He drove the blade into Will’s cheek too quickly for him to react.  The pain splintered through his nerves, momentarily paralyzing him, and the Dragon tossed him through the broken window onto the terrace. 

              Then Will felt another surge.  Ferocity raged through him; the desire to fight and destroy swelled through his body.  Fear and indecision vanished from him as if they never were.

              He yanked the blade from his face and drove it into his enemy’s leg.  His adversary roared with pain, and the sound let loose a fire inside Will.  His body was still weak and he wasn’t quick enough to stop the Dragon from stabbing the knife back into his shoulder, but he could _feel_ the power surging through him now; rage and need to _kill him_.

              Then Hannibal leapt upon the Dragon’s shoulders.  Light shone through Will’s body as he watched his mate attack to defend him.

              Wait…his _what_?

              The Dragon, injured less and therefore stronger, toss Hannibal from his shoulders, his body rolling as he fell into the bushes.  Will felt pain within himself as he saw Hannibal fall and hit the stones, every nerve in his being screaming _NO_.

              The Alpha stalked towards Hannibal with a predatory gait, intent and ready to kill.  He lifted Hannibal up by his neck and began to choke him.

              The ground Will stood upon shifted.  The Earth itself shook and moved.  Whatever power the adrenaline had given him earlier was dwarfed by this new rush of immeasurable strength, such as he had never felt in his life, and the entirety of his being melted down into one solid, unshakable idea: _protect Mine_.

              He yanked the blade from his shoulder and rushed forward with no regard for his own safety, now.  _All_ that mattered was keeping Hannibal safe.  He stabbed the Dragon in his back without hesitation, driving the blade into the hilt.  Then again.  Then again, until the Dragon stopped him with an elbow to his face.  He fell to the ground, white pain cracking through his nerves.  Then the Dragon kicked his omega, and the word _protect_ screamed in his mind.  He saw Hannibal grab an axe and slice the Dragon’s knee.  Will sprang forward without hesitation, and the two of them attacked, in sync, almost like a bonded pair.  Will felt Hannibal’s rush, the exhilaration he felt at being able to kill, and shared it with him.  They looked into each other’s eyes, and Will knew.

              Hannibal was his bond-mate.

              Together, they attacked.  Hannibal leapt upon the enemy Alpha’s shoulders and tore out its throat with his teeth, as Will drove the blade into its stomach and sliced his gut open.

              Then their enemy fell, defeated, and Will lifted his eyes to Hannibal’s gaze.  Protected.  Their pack was protected.

              The defeated Alpha’s blood spread away from his body, filling Will’s nostrils with satisfaction.  He snapped his head to Hannibal, his eyes narrowed and fierce, his breath growling through his teeth.  Hannibal looked back at him, eyes wide with shock, face set in hope.

              Will inhaled again, and Hannibal’s scent wafted to him like thick honey, wrapping around his body, making his adrenaline rush away from his arms and legs and to other parts of him.  He rose and walked towards Hannibal who stared up at him with wide, curious eyes.

              “Will?” he asked.  Will snarled and brought his hand up to the back of Hannibal’s head, wrapping his bloody fingers tightly in his hair.  He yanked his head to the side, leaned in, and breathed.

              “Omega.” Will whispered.  “I _knew it_.”

              He had intended to pull away, but found himself tethered to proximity to Hannibal.  His blood was roaring in his ears and he inhaled again, his eyelids fluttering as a groan escaped his throat.

              “Delicious.” Will said, moving his lips to press against Hannibal’s skin, and then they were open, and then he was sucking on his neck.  Hannibal groaned and relented under him, falling to the ground as Will covered him, with a very vulnerable, un-Hannibal sounding whimper.

              “Alpha.” Hannibal said, arching his back under Will, baring his throat to him.

              Will laughed at the idea that he had ever considered otherwise.  Of _course_ he was Hannibal’s Alpha.

              Hannibal gazed up at him with a smile that normally, Will would have called a smirk, but it was too genuine.

              “My alpha.” Hannibal whispered again, lifting a shaking hand up to stroke along Will’s cheek. 

              “What did you do to me?” he whispered, nothing but affection in his voice as he licked Hannibal’s throat, drawing his beautiful, gorgeous, delicious scent down into himself.

              Hannibal cocked his head with an amused expression.

              “What _didn’t_ I do, Will?” he said, his hand stroking Will’s uninjured cheek as Will’s lips closed around the skin of Hannibal’s neck, sucking gently, tasting him, needing him.  His fingers clasped Hannibal’s shoulders, pinning him to the stone beneath them.  He realized slowly that he was also straddling him, pinning Hannibal’s hips down with his thighs, and that Hannibal was _relenting_ to him, without even a token struggle.

              “I tried everything I could think of, to get you to awaken.” Hannibal said.  “Garret Jacob Hobbs, a vicious Alpha killer, so dangerous he threatened his own offspring, whom you protected on instinct.  Yet no awakening reaction from you.  Tobias Budge, an _unmated_ , ferocious Alpha, who threatened _your own life_ ; yet no, no reaction from you.  Randall Tier, an Alpha who attacked you in your own home, in the midst of your pack; and yet you _somehow_ defended them _while remaining dormant_.  It was incredible, really.  Had I not scented you myself, on our very first meeting, I would have believed you to be a beta myself.”

              Will could hardly hear the words coming from Hannibal’s lips.  He shook his head, trying to concentrate and remember the things Hannibal talked about.  Instead he found himself overwhelmingly drawn, instinctually pulled, their lips now inches away, Hannibal’s breath washing over his face.

              “The Dragon, whom I sent to threaten your very family, and yet you protected them while still remaining dormant.  Those modern drugs really are _very_ powerful.” Hannibal said, moving his hand up to stroke along the back of Will’s neck.  His skin tingled where Hannibal touched him, and he bowed his head, eager for more, dipping his nose in again to bury it against Hannibal’s neck.

              “But then, the moment I was in danger.” Hannibal whispered.  “The moment another Alpha had me in his claws…”

              Will growled and opened his mouth, sucking Hannibal’s skin deeply between his teeth, chewing gently in the imitation of a claiming bite; because Hannibal was not in heat, so it would have no bonding effect.

              “The moment another Alpha had me…”  
              “ _Mine_.” Will growled in Hannibal’s ear, his hips grinding down to push against Hannibal’s.

              Hannibal turned his head so that Will was able to look into his eyes.

              “Yes.” he whispered.  “I have been since the day we met.”

              With ferocity Will crushed their lips together, his tongue diving deeply into Hannibal’s mouth, seeking his flavor, tasting him, sucking his essence into himself.  Hannibal’s enthusiasm returned just as strongly as Will’s.  Will’s cock was growing hard and the pain from his injuries was fading to a distant, foggy thrum.  He shifted his hips and ground down against Hannibal, who moaned softly and arched his back again, pressing up into him.

              “Oh, how I have waited for you.” Hannibal whispered.  Will’s ears rang at the sound of Hannibal’s voice, though he cut it off again with another crash of their lips, his tongue lapping at Hannibal’s, the blood from the gash in his cheek seeping into both their mouths.

              Some dim part of Will’s mind was aware of just _how_ injured they were; but he was barely able to hold on to his consciousness enough to even realize that he was going into rut.  Hannibal’s body should have been giving off distress hormones, driving Will into protective mode, but instead he gave out _mating_ pheromones, and Will was drowning in them, his eyes flashing with desire as his hands struggled to tear the shredded clothing from Hannibal’s body.

              He had them naked and barely had time to look into Hannibal’s eyes before his mouth was devouring him again, their skin covered in blood, blood seeping from Hannibal’s stomach, dripping from Will’s shoulder, pouring from his cheek.  His cock was solid and hot, every inch of his skin tingled, and he could not remove his mouth from Hannibal’s lips.

              Under him, Hannibal whined and spread his legs eagerly.

              “You’re not…in heat…” Will managed, though his body didn’t care what his mouth said, his hands eagerly clasping Hannibal’s hips.

              “Take me.” Hannibal whispered, and Will smelled the scent of slick then; not the thick, irresistible scent of an omega in heat, but just the regular scent of an omega turned on.  It still drove him mad and he lost all ability to think anything other than _yes_ and _mine_.

              Will pushed his cock into Hannibal and cried out as his back arched from pleasure.  His hips drove down of their own volition, Hannibal’s tight heat sucking him in, pulling in him, drawing him close.  Both of their bodies worked as hard as they had to fight the dragon, driving into each other, Hannibal raising his hips as Will drove his down.  Hannibal’s hands clasped Will’s ass, his powerful arms _pulling_ him in, Will’s body trembling from effort as sweat dripped from his brow, mixed with the blood.

              His cock swelled from pleasure, waves pulsing through his blood in greater and greater intensity, until he was drowning in ecstasy.  His eyes locked into Hannibal’s and waves of love and desire and need poured over him, erasing all doubt, all misgivings, taking away whatever indecision he may ever have held.

              “My omega.” he said, his voice deeply affectionate.  Will purred and kissed Hannibal again, desperate, needy.  Hannibal groaned and accepted him as his knot swelled further, a sensation Will had never felt before.  The pressure on his most sensitive organ was at once exquisite and torturous;  he at once felt he couldn’t take any more and desperately didn’t have enough.  He forced himself in once more and Hannibal gave a whimpering cry, the only time Will had ever heard his voice utter sound because of pain.

              When Will tried to jerk back again to thrust once more, Hannibal’s body sealed around him and did not let him leave.  The sensation was indescribable.  Will collapsed with a groan of delirium, pleasure singing through his every nerve, gathering into a white-hot point that exploded out of him, sending tremors through his entire body.  Hannibal moaned under him, raising his hips to receive Will’s seed, the two of them panting and shuddering in tandem as hot desire racked them both.

              Will arched his back and cried out again, pulse after pulse  of orgasms unrelenting, his omega eagerly receiving him, both of their hands clasping the other so tightly they squeezed the blood from their fingers.  After Will’s third orgasm he collapsed, gasping for air, Hannibal’s breath hot beneath him, brushing against his bleeding cheek.

              He felt fingers stroking through his hair, and he raised his face to look down at his mate.

              “You have captured me.” Will whispered. 

              Hannibal, for once, did not deny the nature of their relationship, and only kissed him sweetly upon his lips.

              Then they heard sirens.

              “It seems Uncle Jack has found us.” Hannibal said.  Will took stock of their bodies; naked, dirty, and covered in blood. 

              “We need medical help.” he admitted.

              Hannibal’s fingers tightened in Will’s hair.

              “Bite me.” he tilted his head to the side.

              “You’re not in heat, it won’t…”

              Hannibal’s eyes bored into him like steel.

              “Do you deny that we belong together?”

              Will didn’t even hesitate.

              “No.”

              “Then when the time comes, you _will_ bond with me.”

              Will snorted and a half-smile came to his lips.

              “I think, on some level, we have always been bonded.”

              “Yes.” Hannibal said.  “So bite me now, Will, so they will think we have _already_ bonded.  Then you will own me, legally, and they cannot imprison me without your consent.”

              Had Will had all his wits about him, he would have had a hundred things to say in retort.  But his brain was still deeply foggy from rut; as it was, he could feel his knot starting to swell again and in a moment, he was going to lose his lucidity once more.

              He grinned and kissed Hannibal’s lips hungrily.  He pulled away slowly, watching the blood drip down onto his lips from the inside of Will’s mouth.  He gazed into his eyes; the only eyes he’d _ever_ been able to look into; that alone should have let him know.

              “Make no mistake, Hannibal Lecter.” he said.  “It is you who owns _me_.”

              With that, he wrapped his fingers into Hannibal’s hair and yanked his head to the side.  Hannibal eagerly allowed the motion, and Will dove in, driving his teeth into Hannibal’s flesh.  Without the hormones to drive the behavior, he was just a man biting the flesh of another.  The taste was iron and salt, and Hannibal’s grunt of pain was satisfying to Will, even as he loved him.

              Will pulled away and sucked at the blood, then lapped at it, then licked more of it from Hannibal’s throat and neck and chest.

              “You enjoy it.” Hannibal replied, delight in his voice.

              “There is no doubt that I belong with you.” was Will’s reply.  “You are savage, and so am I.”

              Hannibal’s smile was genuine, and then Will’s eyes rolled back in his head.  His knot swelled and released another pulse of seed, the pleasure causing Will to convulse.  Hannibal groaned under him, though he was still with it enough to blink when the headlights shined down on them, flashing blue and red distracting his vision, causing him to blink and turn his face away.

              “They’re here!” he heard Jack cry, and then the heavy footsteps of the determined and foolish man as he approached.

              “Holy _shit_.” Jack said, as his eyes soaked up the carnage, the entire terrace coated in the blood of three men, one clothed and dead, two naked and heaving together in the center. 

              “Will!  Are you…”

              As Jack approached, Will raised his head and snarled, loud and vicious, his eyes a deep, deep red as blood poured from his mouth.

              “Oh my God.” he said, as his brain finally deciphered the scene before him, and the meaning of it.  “ _Will_ …”

              “ _Mine!_ ” Will cried, fully in rut, his voice echoing off the cliffside, in a deep and bone-rattling volume, his eyes wild and as red as the blood around him.

              Medics came rushing over with two stretchers, and one of them guided Jack to step farther back.

              “Get them apart!” Jack bellowed.  “Hannibal needs to be contained, _now_!”

              “I’m afraid that’s medically dangerous, sir.” The paramedic told him calmly.  “It appears they are knotted.”

              “Well wait a few minutes, then.” Jack said.

              “Sir, the brown-haired male…”

              “Will.” Jack spat.

              “Will, is in full-on rut.  The knot will last hours.  Until it goes down it would be dangerous and unethical to separate…”

              “Fine!  Then they are _both_ under arrest!  Get them to the hospital!”

              While Will was busy snarling at Jack, the other paramedic had snuck behind him to administer a powerful sedative into his shoulder.  They gave another one to Hannibal, and within minutes they were both unconscious, asleep, naked, and knotted in pools of their own, and their slain enemy’s blood.

              As Jack watched the horror of them being lifted onto a single stretcher, the blood drenching the white sheet red immediately, all he could think of was how glad he was Freddie Lounds wasn’t here to get a picture of the grotesque scene.

             


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the incredible response to the one-shot I posted, this is no longer a one-shot but a multi-chapter fic. Thank you to the lovliest beta reader,  
> [victorine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine), for your incredible contributions to this chapter.
> 
> Please keep telling me what you think, folks; trust me, your comments do shape the story!

Will woke with a jerk and tried to sit up, only to find himself restrained.  Panic surged through his body and he flailed wildly, hearing the clattering of the bars he was attached to as they rattled.  There was an annoying beeping noise, and then the hurrying of feet.  The light flicked on, blinding him, and two nurses were standing over him, dressed in white.

              “Mr. Graham, please calm down!  You’ll hurt yourself!” one of them shouted.

              “Omega!” he cried.  “Protect, keep safe!” his voice tore through his throat  in ragged breaths.  He yanked hard against the restraints, and one of the nurses injected something into his IV.  His racing heart started to slow and he felt groggy, but it was enough to allow him a moment to process the situation.

              “Now look, you’ve gone and torn your stitches.”

              He turned his head to the side where she was looking and saw blood seeping through the white bandages around his shoulder. 

              “Hannibal.” he managed, his chest heaving, though the beeping from his heart monitor was starting to slow.

              “He’s safe.” the other nurse said, his voice calm and patient, though trained and professional.  “He was injured more badly than you were and we have him in the ICU, but he’s doing fairly well, considering his injuries.”

              Will let his head fall back to the pillow then in relief, his brow furrowing together as he finally realized where he was.

              “I’m sorry, I just…I woke up, and was tied down…”

              “You kept thrashing in your sleep, tearing your wounds open.  But now that you’re conscious and awake, we can remove the restraints.  I’ll go get the doctor for approval.” the female nurse said, and he heard the quick walk of her shoes as she hurried from the room.

              “Has the rut cleared?  Can you remain calm?” the male nurse asked.  “I want to re-dress your wound.”

              Will nodded shakily, wincing as the nurse started to remove the bandage.  He was on a lot of pain killers, he could tell; he barely felt the enormous bandage on his cheek.  It itched more than anything. 

              “Hannibal?” he asked again, feeling exactly like a stereotype, a mindless, hormonal-driven violent animal that cared only about his omega, and nothing else.

              He frankly didn’t care.

              “He really is doing well.” the nurse said.  “He hasn’t woken up yet, but he lost a lot of blood.  We gave him transfusions and sutured the intestines.  No other organs were seriously harmed and he got medical attention before any sepsis started.”

              Will nodded, trying to pay attention, but the drugs made his mind foggy. 

              “How long was I asleep?”

              “Less than a day.” the nurse told him, patting his wound dry and then rubbing some kind of ointment onto it, before he started to re-wrap the bandage.  Will sat up a bit, though that was difficult with his hands restrained, to help the nurse wrap the bandage.

              “They say you two stopped a serial killer.”

              Stopped one, but gave birth to another, Will thought.  The number of serial killers in the world had not been reduced.  Still, it was true.

              “Yes.” he said.

              “Forgive me for prying.” he asked, “But wasn’t Hannibal in prison, for being a serial killer himself?”

              Will nodded, wincing as he lay back down and pressure increased the pain in his shoulder.

              “Why would you bond with him, then?”

              Will attempted to smile, but _then_ he felt the pain in his cheek, and it came out as a grimace.

              “You don’t get to choose your bond-mate.” he replied.  He could see that the beta man couldn’t understand, but he at least attempted to, and gave Will a curt nod.

              “Well, good luck.” he said.  He walked out, and Will tried to wait for the doctor to arrive so he could get the infernal restraints removed, but he was asleep again in short order.

 

              When he next awoke, the restraints were gone, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted them to be, because when he opened his eyes he was assaulted by the sight of Jack.

              He snorted and turned his face away.

              “Will.” Jack said, rising from his seat.

              Will could smell the pheromones on him, now, and they were powerful.  They made Will’s nose wrinkle in distaste.

              “What do you want, Jack?”

              “What do I want?  We need to have some serious conversations, starting with _what the hell happened up on that cliff_?”

              Will snapped his head to look at Jack, anger flashing through his eyes.

              “I did what you _wanted_ , is what happened.” he snapped.  “The Dragon is dead.  You’ve gotten your prize.  Now leave us alone.”

              Jack nodded once, but instead of leaving, sat back down in the chair.

              “Us.” he said curtly.

              Despite the pain, Will pushed himself up into a sitting position, the new-born Alpha in him unwilling to have a conversation with Jack while lying down.

              “Yes.  _Us_.” he spat. 

              Jack’s cold stare tried to bore into Will’s mind; but it did not succeed.  Will’s mind was occupied by another, now.  One who was _far_ more welcome than Jack.

              “You know better than any of us who Hannibal is.” Jack said, his voice dark.  Will nodded.

              “I do.”

              “Yet you’ve bonded with him.”

              Oh, if only Jack _knew_.  If he knew that Will was _not yet bonded_ , that he still had a _choice_ in the matter, and was completely _willingly_ protecting Hannibal, with all his wits about him.

              “It’s not like I had much of a choice, Jack.”

              He felt the manipulative lies drip from his lips like ambrosia.  He had only one goal, now; which was to get Hannibal out of this place before his next heat, and then to _claim_ him.

              The idea sent a flush of heat through Will. 

              Jack sighed, folding his hands in front of his knees.  He lowered his head.

              “I know.” he replied.  “I know.”

              He rose and started to pace, rubbing first his forehead, then his cheek with his hand.

              “I never meant for this to happen, Will.”

              Will snorted.

              “You say it as if something bad has happened to me, Jack.”  his tone dripped with sarcasm.

              Jack spun around.

              “You are _mated_ to a _cannibalistic serial killer_.”

              Will grinned, remembering this time to do it with only one side of his face.

              “Usually, people offer congratulations after a successful bonding.”

              Jack slammed his fist against the wall.

              “ _Will_!”

              Will felt his hackles rise at the tone of a challenge.  He flew to his feet, unbothered by the several wires that ripped off his skin as he did so, causing a bunch of machines to start screaming.  Will marched towards Jack and bared his teeth, snarling at him.

              Jack turned to meet him, his initial instinct to rise to the challenge, but years of practice allowed him to keep a calm appearance.

              “Do you wish to challenge me for Hannibal?” Will growled.  Before Jack could reply, two nurses scurried in, their eyes growing wide at the disarray of instrument wires.

              “Mr. Graham!  You need to be resting, sir!” one of them cried.  “Security!”

              A very large, muscular orderly marched into the room and looked down at Jack.

              “Please remove this visitor, he’s agitating the patient.”

              Jack allowed the orderly to guide him from the room, though on his way out he turned to glare at Will, who bared his teeth back in response.  If Jack wanted to play it this way, then Will would play.  Against both Will and Hannibal as a team, Jack didn’t stand a chance.

             

              When Will next woke, he was finally alone.  Well, not exactly; he’d awakened because the nurse was sticking him with a needle, drawing his blood, but then he left, and for the first time since… _everything_ , Will had a chance to think.

              Well, he’d had the last three years to think; but no matter how many times he turned Hannibal over in his head, he could never come to a conclusion.  He wanted to kill him; at first for revenge, then as an act to save the world from what Hannibal was, and yet, for some reason, _couldn’t_. 

              Now he knew why, and it suddenly all seemed so simple.

              He lifted his hands in front of himself and turned them over, expecting them to be different, somehow.  He felt so _entirely_ different; where there had once been muddled thoughts, there was clarity, where there had once been indecision, there was certainty.  His vision seemed sharper, his hearing was enhanced, and his nose, well.  To say it was more sensitive was an understatement.  Jack had smelled absolutely repulsive.

              He rested his head back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling.  He felt like he should be wrestling with himself, as he was used to, trying to decide whether he should bond with Hannibal or turn him in to Jack.  He felt like he should have the weight of the world on his shoulders; as if a heavy decision should be weighing on his mind.

              But there wasn’t.

              And he couldn’t even blame a bond.  There was none.  He simply, of his own volition and desire, wanted Hannibal.

              He closed his eyes, and in a manner very similar to how he re-created crime scenes, remembered how they had slain the Dragon.

              Remembered their movements, coordinated and in sync, fine-tuned to each other without a thought, matching breath, matching heartbeat.  Remembered Hannibal’s eyes as he looked at him over their foe, remembered the spark of realization.  The joy he felt.  The _peace_ he felt.  He was a hunter, a predator, as Hannibal was, and the moment he accepted that, Hannibal was there, waiting for him.

              Will couldn’t stand another moment away from him.  He opened his eyes and got out of bed, dragging the IV pole with him as he walked out into the hall, thankful that he was no longer hooked up to anything else.  He rolled down to the nurse’s station with a singular focus, tensing his knuckles, ready to fight them all if they dared tell him no.

              “Can I help you, Mr. Graham?” the nurse behind the desk asked. 

              “I want to see my omega.”

              The words should have sounded strange, foreign.  Instead they sounded _right_.

              “Of course.” she said. 

              It took him a second to realize she was helping him.  He watched her pick up the phone with surprise, and slowly let the tension fade from his muscles.  He really was exhausted. 

              “Yes, this is Nurse’s Station four calling.  Mr. Graham is awake and wants to see his husband…”

              Will wrinkled his nose at the incorrect word.

              “Mate.” he corrected.  She ignored him, listening to whatever was being said on the other end of the line.

                _Betas_ , he thought.  He suddenly understood the sentiment all too well.

              She hung up and gave him a gentle smile.

              “It seems he has just regained consciousness and is asking for you.”

              Will’s heart fluttered so heavily he inhaled to compensate.  He was aware of a blush rising to his cheeks, and saw the nurse behind her give him a cute smile.  Part of him felt like growling at her, but he kept it at bay.

              “Nicole, will you please escort Mr. Graham down to the ICU?”

              The nurse who had smiled at him walked cheerfully around the desk.  Will held his breath to keep his frustration down.  His old self already didn’t like people; now they all had an extra dimension to them for him to not like.  Killing them was not going to be the problem.  Restraining from doing so was now going to take more effort than he was sure he wanted to spend.

              She led him into the elevator and started chatting, but Will tuned her out.  When they came out in the ICU wing, he had to sign in, and wait for the door to buzz open, and he was growing more and more irritated and impatient.  She stepped through and he followed, as she began to lead the way, and then a lovely, divine scent absorbed straight into his brain. 

              All of Will’s tension left him in an instant.  He no longer needed the nurse to show him the way, and he brushed past her, hurrying down the hall, his heart beating faster as he grew closer.  He pushed past the police officer that was guarding the door and threw it open.  Will stopped at the threshold, awash in his scent, calming and beautiful, and there he was.

              Hannibal smiled when he saw him.  He attempted to sit up, but couldn’t quite.  The motion made it very obvious just how weak he was; the strain made his face turn pale and he actually gave up, leaning back into a reclining position.  The small motion still made the handcuff around his wrist rattle on the metal rail of the bed. 

              Will stood in the doorway for a long time, the events of the last day all racing through his mind.  It was _so_ strange to look at a face that he had _hated_ , had wanted to _destroy_ , and now…now, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

              He slowly walked to the side of the bed, his bare feet slapping on the ground as he rolled the stupid IV pole beside him.  He stopped and Hannibal looked up at him, his face as unreadable as ever—yet Will could smell the uncertainty on him, now.

              “Hannibal.” he said, his voice soft.  He wanted to touch him, but he wasn’t sure how.  He _wanted_ to crawl into the bed and wrap all of his limbs around Hannibal and nuzzle his face into his hair; but that was such an incredible leap from where he’d been yesterday, thinking he was going to watch the Dragon kill the man, that he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

              Instead, he reached out his hand slowly and clasped it around Hannibal’s fingers. 

              At the touch, Will saw the tension drain away from Hannibal’s body, and he closed his eyes with exhaustion.

              “Just a moment with you brings more relief than any pain medication.” he croaked, his voice dry and hoarse.  Will’s eyebrows furrowed together as he took more of the situation in, then.  Hannibal’s paleness; the handcuff on his wrist, the police officer sitting in the hall just outside the door of his room.

              Will’s eyes traced over Hannibal’s face, his gaze traveling down to the teeth marks he’d left in Hannibal’s neck.  It surprised him how _deep_ the bite was.  He didn’t recall having bitten that hard.

              “They said you don’t have sepsis.” Will finally said, and it was the lamest line ever said by anyone in the history of newly-bonded pairs, he was certain.

              Hannibal didn’t seem to mind at all.

              “Not currently, though I am still a risk.” he said.  “I’m afraid I’m going to be stuck here for a bit.”

              Will needed to comfort.  He needed to protect.  Hand-holding was no longer enough.  He leaned forward, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder completely, to reach out and comb his fingers through Hannibal’s perfectly straight hair.  He closed his eyes and leaned into Will’s palm.  His scalp was warm, his scent wafting up to Will’s nose as he let the strands fall.  He stroked and stroked, _petting_ Hannibal, and Hannibal’s face only relaxed further.

              “You have accepted me.” Hannibal managed to whisper, his voice cracking with emotion.  It showed just how vulnerable he truly was.  Jitters raced through Will at the realization.

              “I have.” he said.

              He watched the tiniest of expressions change on Hannibal’s face, though from years of knowing him and through his empathy, Will knew he was relieved.  Then a second later, he _smelled_ it, the scent of Hannibal’s relief; followed by a small wisp of fear.  Will knew the source of that fear.  He had rejected Hannibal _so many times_.  Guilt cracked through Will’s heart.  He needed to show Hannibal that this time, it was _real_.

              He leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Hannibal’s.  He exhaled with relief, the scent of his breath filling Will’s lungs, and there was no greater heaven.

              Will closed his lips against Hannibal’s and felt how dry they were.  That wouldn’t do at all.  He brought his tongue out and traced it over Hannibal’s lips, moistening them, licking away the dryness.  Hannibal’s lips parted slightly and Will pushed his tongue inside, giving Hannibal his fluid, his life, his all. 

              Hannibal responded with quiet moans and gentle motions of his own tongue, but he let Will be in control.  Hannibal’s relenting to him sent shivers up his spine; Will could not believe how much Hannibal trusted him, how much he opened up to him. 

              Will pulled his lips away and rested their foreheads together.

              “I will keep you safe until the day I die.” he said softly, and it sounded so cliché, straight out of a teen romance film, and yet he _meant_ it.

              Hannibal lifted a shaking hand to stroke it against Will’s good cheek.

              “I haven’t a single doubt.” he whispered.  He closed his eyes then, his face pale and drained.  Will pulled back and sat in the chair beside the bed, pulling it close so he could continue to stroke Hannibal’s hand.

              “Jack came to see me.” Will said.  He saw Hannibal’s lips pull downward, but he otherwise gave no reaction.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll keep you free.”

              At that, the corner of Hannibal’s lips upturned and he parted his eyelids just enough to look into Will’s face.

              “Again, I haven’t a single doubt.” he whispered.  “You will be an excellent Alpha; the most devoted and ferocious in history.  It is why I chose you.”

              Will knew that his old self would have felt angry.  A part of him still did.  Even with his new perspective on the situation, it was going to take time to forgive Hannibal for all the things he’d done.

              “You could have found less violent ways to try to reach me.” he tried.

              Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

              “On the contrary, Will.  All the violence I employed wasn’t enough.  None of it worked.  I had to nearly get killed before you reacted.”

              Will tried to find an argument against that, but there was none.  Had Hannibal simply _asked_ him to stop taking his suppressants and be his mate, Will would certainly have said no.  Vehemently.  And then probably would have tried to kill Hannibal, again.

              His eyes fell to where their hands were clasped together, to where he stroked his thumb over the back of Hannibal’s hand, savoring the feel of him.

              “When did you choose me?” Will asked, his voice shaking as he both looked forward to and dreaded the answer.

              A slow smile spread over Hannibal’s lips and he closed his eyes again in memory.

              “I was intrigued immediately, the moment you walked into Jack’s office and I scented you.  Such a powerful Alpha scent you gave off, that day.  I believe it was because you were irritated with Jack, for dragging you away from your classroom and out into the field.”

              Will gave a half-smile, careful not to shift his injured cheek. 

              “How, when not even Jack, nor I , or _anyone_ else could tell?  They say it’s impossible to tell what someone will awaken as.”

              Hannibal smiled.

              “It’s always been very clear to me.” he said.  “Perhaps it is because I never delayed my development.  I believe such senses have been lost to the younger generations, with the unnatural course they take in their biological development.”

              Will cocked his head to the side curiously.

              “You never took suppressants?”

              Even lying in bed, barely alive, Hannibal managed to hold his head with pride.

              “My family did not believe in debasing ourselves in such a manner.  No Lecter has ever so interfered with the course of nature.”

              Will sighed heavily.  He might have been the Alpha, but Hannibal had a lifetime of experience where he had less than a day, and it reminded Will that he was not the one with the upper hand.  Their relationship was not, and would never be, anywhere near ‘normal’.

              Maybe that was just fine.

              “I want to ask you what a bond is like,” he said, “But you don’t have any more experience with it than I do.”

              Hannibal turned his hand over, pressing their palms together and tightly entwining their fingers.

              “That is not correct.” he said.  “I have observed many bonded pairs; both in my family and in my practice as a psychiatrist.  My parents were my primary example of such a relationship.”

              Will’s eyes darted to Hannibal’s face and locked onto his gaze.  Hannibal _never_ spoke about his past, and now here he was, freely divulging it in heaps.  So much was so different in such a short amount of time.

              “It is a deep emotional, physical, psychic connection that makes your empathy seem like a mere carnival trick.” he said.  Hannibal’s hand left Will’s to stroke against his cheek, and Will closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, as he _always_ had leaned into it; even when Hannibal’s other hand had a knife in his gut.  He opened his eyes and they were captured by Hannibal’s gaze.

              “We will be beyond inseparable.  It will be difficult to tell our desires and fears apart.  Physical distance will be painful.  We will know each other’s emotions, and most of each other’s thoughts.  You will speak for me, and I will be delighted to allow you to.  Other people will appear pale and empty in comparison to the way we view each other.  When one falls ill, so will the other.  If we heal, we shall heal together.  The strength of this bond is the sole thing that healed Bella from her cancer, for example. And when one of us dies, so will the other.”

              Their eyes remained locked during every word Hannibal spoke.  The words he spoke should have been _terrifying_ ; especially when Will considered _who_ he was going to share such bond with.  Part of him was terrified; and yet when he briefly entertained the idea of _not_ bonding to Hannibal, that was worse.

              “A sociopath and an empath.” Will said softly.  “One with no emotion, the other with too much.”

              A proud smile spread across Hannibal’s lips.

              “On the outside, we will appear balanced.”

              Will heard the darkness in Hannibal’s grin, and it ignited the darkness in himself.  His heart beat faster, as his brain made yet another realization.  Will’s eyes grew wide and he leaned in close to Hannibal to whisper his next phrase, aware of the police officer who sat just outside the door.

              “You had to wait until you found another killer, before you dared bond with someone.  Or else they would either try to stop that part of you, or be horrified by it.”

              He smelled Hannibal’s delight sprint off of him with elation.  Hannibal lifted his head up just enough so that his lips brushed over Will’s ear, his hand sliding back to stroke through his hair.

              “I have waited a lifetime for you, Will Graham.”

              Will turned his face, and now they were inches apart.  His heart pounded in his chest, from excitement, from adoration, from awe.

              “I accept you as you are, Hannibal Lecter.” he said.  He closed the space between them and they hungrily kissed each other; wild emotions running through Will, growing wilder as the scent of Hannibal’s pleasure wafted into his brain.   He closed his eyes and thought again of last night, their feral, animalistic passion.  Heat bloomed through his body at the memory, and he heard Hannibal inhale sharply.

              “Will.” he said against Will’s lips, his voice thick.

              Will no longer remembered why he was sitting in this chair, and not curled up in the bed beside his omega.  His eyes traced over the wires and the shape of Hannibal’s body under the blankets, trying to figure out how he could manage to crawl in there without causing Hannibal any pain or danger.

              Knowing exactly what he was looking to do, Hannibal shifted his body closer to the edge of the bed to make space for Will, gritting his teeth but not making a single grunt of pain.  Carefully, slowly, Will pulled back the blanket.  Hannibal’s scent was _strong_ , then, the heat from his body carrying it to Will’s nose, into his brain, and seeping into every one of his pores.  He closed his eyes and breathed in, shaking as he gingerly put his weight on the mattress.

              Hannibal winced and grunted, and then Will winced as well as he accidentally put weight on his injured shoulder, and they both shifted a few times before they found a position where they were not in pain.  But then Will wrapped his arm over Hannibal’s chest, careful to keep it above his bandages.  They were barely clad in hospital gowns, both badly needed a shower, and Hannibal had a colonoscopy bag, just like the one he’d made Will have to wear over three years ago.  And Will had never felt more comfortable or happier in his life.

              Slowly, they moved together, until they were touching in every place possible.  Will lay on his good shoulder, his hand snaked up to tangle his fingers through Hannibal’s hair.  His unbandaged cheek pressed to Hannibal’s forehead, where he periodically pressed light kisses, unable to not do so.  His knees rested against Hannibal’s hip and his legs intertwined with Hannibal’s, their bodies as entangled as they could manage with all the wires and tubes they were attached to, and the handcuff around Hannibal’s wrist. 

              “Jack wants to take you from me.” Will whispered.  Hannibal gave a short laugh, but then stopped as it caused him pain. 

              “I’d enjoy watching him try.”

              Will ran his fingers through Hannibal’s hair again and again, feeling it’s softness, reveling in how straight it was, how light it felt.

              “We can’t handle him in your usual way.” Will said, aware that the police officer was listening; though he could probably guess at his exact meaning, he didn’t think he should flat out say the word “murder”.

              “Then you’ll just have to hire a lawyer.”

              Will sighed.

              “Hannibal, I don’t know any lawyers.”

              “I know plenty.”

              “Of course you do.”

              “I had quite a few as patients.”

              Will snorted a laugh.

              “I can’t _imagine_ how that must have turned out.”

              “They are all much better at their practice than before.”

              “You are incorrigible.” Will said, turning to press his lips to Hannibal’s forehead for the hundredth time.

              “When you are discharged, which I’d imagine will be within the next day or so, go to our house and call me from there.”

              Will lifted his head so he could look into Hannibal’s face.

              “Our house?” he asked.  “Hannibal, we’re both homeless.  Neither of us can go back to where we’ve spent the last three years.  I sold my house in Wolf Trap.”

              Hannibal’s smile was amused.

              “I haven’t sold mine.  I may have been locked away, but I still own my property.  And now you own me.  So you own it.  Therefore, our house.”

              Will’s lips pressed against Hannibal’s before he had a chance to think.  Again, he felt the dryness, and reminded himself to ask a nurse to get Hannibal some ice to suck on.  For now, his own tongue would do, and he ran it over his lips, first the top, then the bottom, the pressed it inside, licking his way into Hannibal, moistening him and tasting him.

              Hannibal groaned softly and let him in.  Will moved to press them closer, and heard a sharp gasp of pain from Hannibal.  He instantly tried to pull away, but Hannibal’s free hand flew up to his waist, pulling him in close.  Will moaned into his mouth, their breath coming quicker, Hannibal’s scent washing down into his lungs with every exhale. 

              He pulled back for breath and smelled more, more of that delightful, heavenly scent.  His nose followed it, tracing along Hannibal’s jaw, then down to his neck, where Will’s false bite mark glared up at him, mocking him that it wasn’t real.  Will heard a growling sound, only dimly aware that it was himself, challenging the mark that didn’t belong.  He licked over it, sucking on Hannibal’s neck, pulling his skin into his mouth, marking him with temporary hickies, until he could claim him as his own, forever.

              “So my worst nightmare is true after all.”

              Will heard the voice, but his brain was so laden with Hannibal-scent that it took him a moment to even pause in his sucking. 

              “Are you going to dare to completely ignore me, Will Graham?” the voice said, and Will pulled his lips away, slowly turning his head, his eyes taking a moment to focus.

              “Molly?” he said.  She stood, her hands balled into fists, her arms shaking as pain and fear screamed from her face.  Her sadness seeped through the pleasant haze Will was feeling.

              “Yes, _Molly_.” she spat.  “Your _wife_.”

              He craned his neck to look at her a bit more, but didn’t get very far as his entire body was occupied.  He looked down at them and realized just _how_ entangled they were; the shape of their limbs was perfectly visible through the thin blanket that covered them, and it did little to hide the erection Hannibal was sporting, either.

              Hannibal made no attempt to hide it.

              “Molly…I’m…”

              He couldn’t even bring himself to say he was sorry, because he wasn’t.  At all.

              “I’m not yours anymore.” was the best he could do.

              “Wow.” was her response.  “You know, I came to see if you were _alive_.  So I guess I got my answer.”

              Tears fell from her eyes then, and the sourness of guilt spread through Will and shook him out of the fog.  He tried to sit up again, and felt Hannibal’s hand clasp his shoulder, pulling him back.

              He turned and looked Hannibal directly in the eyes.

              “Hannibal.”

              Hannibal cocked his head to the side innocently, a prick of a smile at the corner of his lips.

              “Will, can we… talk?  Without…him?” Molly asked.  Will turned to look at her and tried to sit up again, but Hannibal held him down with more force. 

              He snapped his head around, his eyes hard.

              “Hannibal, let go.”

              It was a command.  Will hadn’t consciously thought about doing it; but the tone in his voice was _forceful_ , more than he’d ever recalled it being in his life.  Delight sprang to Hannibal’s eyes, and he obeyed, his hand slipping off Will’s shoulder to fall to the bed.

              Will rewarded him with a kiss to his forehead, and then turned and sat up.  He felt cold, and it was from more than just the loss of body heat.  Still, one more glance at Molly’s face, the face he’d spent the last three years with, a face that had done him no wrong, and he forced himself onto his feet, practically shivering as he stood on the cold tiled floor.

              “We can go out in the hall.” he said.  He took a step and heard the faintest, softest whine come from Hannibal’s lips.

              He froze in place, electricity crackling through his body, making the next step away nearly _impossible_.

              He let anger rise to his face and turned around.

              “You’re going to have me for the _rest of my life_ ; let her have a few more minutes.” he snapped.

              Hannibal grinned.

              Molly made a disgusted sound and turned to walk out into the hall.  Will hobbled after her, dragging his IV pole, not particularly concerned if she stopped and waited for him.  He half hoped she just kept on marching towards the elevators, but when he got out into the hall she was standing beside the police officer.

              “He’s an evil, vicious monster.” she said, gesturing at the police officer for emphasis.  “You told me all the horrible things he’s done!  To _you_!  He tried to _kill you_ , Will!”

              He was cold, dirty, and exhausted.  He didn’t want to argue.

              “It doesn’t matter now.” he said.  “We’re already bonded.”

              He was, for once, grateful to Hannibal for his cunning lie.  It was _so_ much easier to try to explain the situation by blaming a bond, than it was to admit that he _wanted_ this.  That he had always wanted this.  That he had always _been_ this.

               She gaped at him.

              “You _what_?  You’re a beta!”

              Apparently nobody had told her anything.

              It was strange, looking into her eyes now, but he forced himself to do it. 

              “Actually, no.”

              Her shocked expression did not change.

              “Hannibal is an omega.  Last night, he was in danger, from Dolarhyde.  And I awakened, to protect him.”

              “Okay, so?  I’ll love you if you’re an Alpha, Will.  That’s not…”

              “I bit him.”

              “Yes, I saw…”

              “I’m his.”

              She glared.

              “Shouldn’t you be saying _he’s yours_?”

              She had always been good at calling him out on his bullshit.  For a moment, Will was afraid she’d realize the bite was a sham and would run and tell Jack in a desperate attempt to get him back. 

              “Nothing about us is going to fit any stereotypes or traditions.” he said.  “We’re different.”

              It was his use of the word ‘we’ that caused fresh tears to fall from her eyes, and her hand flew to cover her mouth.

              “Oh my God.” she said.  Will stood, awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.  “ _Will_.”

              She stared at him with horror, now.

              He sighed.

              “You don’t…you didn’t do this because you think you can stop him this way, did you?” Her voice wavered as she spoke.

              How was he supposed to answer that?  He couldn’t _possibly_ tell her the truth; not in front of the police officer.  But he didn’t want her to think him a fool, either.

              He ran his tongue over his lips to wet it, his eyes darting to the floor as he calculated the best possible way to phrase his answer.

              “It’s exactly as you’d expect.” was the best he could come up with. 

              She took a step back from him.  She got it.

              “You’re not the man I married, are you?”

              Will forced himself not to snort with disdain at the phrase ‘the man she married’.  _That_ man had been a sham.  A falsehood.  A person suit.

              “No.” was what he said, his eyes rising to look straight into her face now, his expression dark as he let the barest hint of who he really was show.  She took another step back.

              “I want a divorce.” was her next response.

              “No need.” Will replied.  “A bond nullifies a marriage, everyone knows that.”

              Her eyes narrowed, and he realized she suspected the truth.  But having the marriage nullified this way was best for her as well, and Molly was a smart woman. 

              “Of course.” she said.  “In that case, should Wally and I run?”

              Neither of them bothered to glance at the police officer, though he’d lowered the newspaper he’d been reading and was intently watching the both of them. 

              “I don’t know what will happen.” he said, leaving the _when we bond_ off, but she heard it in his silence.  She nodded.

              “Then I guess this head start is the last thing you have to give me.”

              He let his guilt show on his face.

              “Yes.”

              One more pair of tears fell from her eyes.

              “Goodbye, Will.” she said.

              “Goodbye, Molly.”

              She turned and hurried down the hall, one loud sob escaping from her before she rounded the corner.  Will turned and pushed the door open to Hannibal’s room feeling completely drained. 

              The moment the scent of Hannibal flowed over him, however, his sadness started to melt away.  He made his way slowly back to the bed, trying to keep a frown on his face, but Hannibal’s gleeful expression was irritatingly contagious.  By the time he was crawling back into the bed, Will was smiling.

              “You’re an asshole.” Will stated simply, through the adoring smile on his face.

              “I enjoy cruelty, Will.  That exchange was very amusing to me.  Please, have you any other wives whose hearts you can break because of me?”

              Will tried to glare at him, failed, and buried his face back into Hannibal’s neck, letting his scent erase every drop of the negative emotions Molly had left him with.

              “No, just the one.” he said.

              He felt Hannibal’s hand slide from his elbow down to his left hand.  He didn’t even realize what he was doing until Hannibal had the ring clasped between his fingers, and then as he pulled, Will pulled back, helping him remove the golden band that he suddenly wanted off of him as quickly as possible.  Hannibal let it drop to the floor, where it clattered and fell silent.

              He then slid his hand to the back of Will’s head, wrapping his fingers in his curls, and pulled him into a deep, lasting kiss.  Will fell back into the drunken haze he’d been in before Molly arrived, the memories of her faded and pale, like black-and-white photos, in comparison to the brilliant color that was Hannibal.

              “You did not promise her we wouldn’t kill her.” Hannibal observed, his thumb gently tracing the shape of Will’s lips.

              “Right now, I don’t want to.” he said.  “Right now, if you tried to hurt her, I’d stop you.” he said.

              “But?” Hannibal’s breath was hot as it brushed past his cheek.

              “I don’t know how I’ll feel after we’re bonded.  I didn’t want to make her any promises I couldn’t keep.”

              A small wave of guilt swelled up, then faded again as Hannibal pressed kisses along his jaw.

              “You have always been wise.” Hannibal said.  Will snorted.

              “If you say so.”

              After that, they ceased to speak, each too busy pressing tender kisses to the other, lips on cheeks and foreheads and noses and throats, fingers tangled in strands of hair, thumbs stroking along backs of ears.  Time was lost to them both, and Will’s thoughts came only in fragments.  The thought that came to him most was how vulnerable Hannibal was now; how wide-open and uncovered he was, and how important it was that Will keep him safe.

              They remained so until the nurses’ urgings finally forced Will to leave, announcing that visiting hours were long over, and Hannibal needed his bandages changed.  They kissed even as Will stood, and Will parted from him with half-lidded eyes and rosy cheeks, feeling more like a teenager now than he’d felt back in high school.

              “I love you.” he purred, feeling almost like he’d lost his mind, having spent hours and hours drunk on Hannibal’s scent.

              “Mano mylimasis.” Hannibal replied, and Will didn’t need to understand the words, he felt Hannibal’s affection more clearly than he saw it on his face.  He allowed the nurse to lead him away, having to constantly remind himself that he wasn’t going far and would see Hannibal again in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

As Hannibal predicted, Will was discharged the next day with instructions to return in two weeks to have his stitches removed.  He took a cab, which was awkwardly uncomfortable wearing nothing but a hospital gown and an enormous bandage on his face.  The familiar door of Hannibal’s house loomed in front of him, at once foreboding and beckoning, repulsive and welcoming.  A turmoil of emotions only grew louder when he found the key hidden in the second planter on the left within two seconds.  Nothing had changed; and yet everything had.

              He found the wad of cash in Hannibal’s dresser exactly where he’d told him it would be and paid the cabbie, then paused in the front doorway and took it all in.

              The house was spotless, having been kept by staff daily for the last three years.  There was even a vase of fresh flowers on the table in the front foyer, ready as if Hannibal had expected to be back home any moment.

              The first thing Will did was take a shower.  Hannibal’s master bath was unnecessarily elaborate, the water clean and hot, everything in perfect working order.  He sighed  under the heat, though he could only put half his body directly in the stream, strict doctor’s orders not to get his bandages wet.  It still felt amazing to be clean, and he couldn’t imagine how Hannibal was handling not being able to clean himself properly. 

              Will was overcome with a powerful urge then to pack up every cleaning product he could find in the bathroom and drive straight back to the hospital to wash Hannibal himself.  Recognizing the urge as an Alphan instinct to provide didn’t diminish the feeling whatsoever, and Will decided there was no reason to fight against the feeling, anyway.

              He dressed in the most casual clothes he could find, which were still a pair of business slacks and a turtleneck sweater, and then went down to the study as instructed.

              He found the rolodex, placed it beside the phone, and sat at the desk, rather than standing to face it.  The feeling was altogether strange. 

              He picked up the phone and called the hospital, then waited while he was connected to Hannibal’s room.

              “Hello, Will.” he answered, and Will felt his heart flutter.  No scent; no hormones, just the sound of Hannibal’s voice, and Will felt a jolt of life from it.               

              “Hannibal.” he said, not able to put into words what he was feeling; though he was pretty sure it came across in his tone.

              “How is our home?” Hannibal asked.  At the sound of the word ‘our’, a flush bloomed up into the tips of Will’s ears.  He swallowed twice before he trusted his voice to speak again.

              “Well kept.” he said.  “You have excellent staff.”

              “Wonderful.” Hannibal said.  “Have you found the phone numbers?”

              “Yes.” Will said.  Hannibal then gave him a few names; a family court lawyer, versed in Alpha-omega law specifically, with a specialty of criminal law on the side.  A medical supply company, whom he wanted to call him at the hospital to prepare for when he was ready to come home, and a court justice with the ability to grant legal Alpha-omega bond licenses.

              Will shook nervously as he wrote down the last number.

              “Call the justice first.” Hannibal said.  “We have to get documentation of our union before we’ll be able to begin proceedings to release me into your legal custody.”

              Will was shaking so hard the phone rattled.

              “Will.” Hannibal said, as if he could, even from across town, see directly into Will’s mind.  Soon, he really would be able to.

              “Tell me what has you so agitated.”

              Will exhaled a deep breath.

              “It’s all happening so fast; I’ve been an Alpha for less than two days, suddenly we’re getting legal bonding papers, you’re signing yourself over to me, I’m petitioning the court to own you instead of the State of Maryland…”

              “Yes, and?” Hannibal said.

              Will tried to put his emotions into words.

              “It’s hard for me to believe that _you_ are so willing to be owned by _anyone_ , least of all me.”

              He heard a soft snort on the other end of the phone.

              “I have been owned by you since you first laid eyes on me, Will Graham.” Hannibal said.  “The only difference now is that you have realized it.”

              Will stared at the top of the desk, his hand clutched around the receiver of the phone as if he were trying to crack it in half.

              “I don’t know how to be an Alpha.” he confessed. 

              “My dear Will.” Hannibal said, his tone gentle, almost condescending, but not quite.  “You know better how to care for me than any other Alpha I have ever met.  Trust me, the instinct is powerful in you.  Let it guide you.  You will perform exceedingly well.”

              Will clutched the next page on the writing pad into his fist, not appreciating Hannibal’s tone, and yet still unable to find argument with his words.

              “Alright, well.  I have some phone calls to make.”

              “I have utmost faith in you.”

 

* * *

 

              After making an appointment with the Office of the Clerk of the Circuit Court for an official to meet with Will and Hannibal at the hospital tomorrow, Will headed to the lawyer’s office.

              Will stared up at the sign of the office building, trying to make himself believe that this was _really_ his life.  “Harold Thorton, Attorney At Law.”

              He adjusted his glasses and took the few steps towards the door, clutching the papers Hannibal had told him to bring as he stepped into the office.

              The lawyer was young; not much older than Will, but Will could see immediately why Hannibal liked him.  He had a crisp personality, was dressed in a very expensive suit, and had detailed knowledge about the law.

              “Ah, yes, Dr. Lecter.  He was an excellent psychiatrist.  He helped me…remove…a particularly toxic person from my life.”

              “Of course he did.” Will said sarcastically.  Being in love with Hannibal didn’t mean he couldn’t still find him…well, annoying.

              “Never pegged him for an omega, though.” the attorney said, sitting down heavily in his large leather chair.

              “Neither did anyone, least of all me.” Will said.

              “That must have been a surprise, awakening to find _him_ under your nose.” he said, clicking through files on his computer until he found the document folder he wanted.

              “That is an understatement.” Will retorted. 

              “Well, I am happy to offer my services to the two of you.  I owe Dr. Lecter a favor, I believe.”

              Will nodded, numbly.

              “So, when did the bonding take place?”

              “Two nights ago.”

              “Mmm-hmm.  Do you have a copy of the official bonding license?”

              “Not yet, we’re getting that tomorrow.”

              “Alright.  Now, we have to work on our defense to get him out of criminal custody and signed over to you.  I’ve sent in a request for the transcripts from his trial…where he was already deemed mentally insane, oh, that’s a good start.” he muttered.  Will didn’t reply, simply fidgeting in his chair, trying to remain patient and calm.  The scent coming off the man wasn’t strong, so he guessed he was on suppressants, or was a natural-born beta.  Either way, it made him unremarkable to Will’s new brain, and he let his mind wander, his eyes falling down to the bag full of hygiene products and clothes he’d packed from Hannibal’s house.       

              “Okay, I’ve drawn up everything; the moment you get me that license, the house will be yours, all the Lecter assets will be yours, and Hannibal _will_ be legally yours, though I’m guessing we’re going to have to fight a court case to get him released out of criminal custody.  But, since he was insane from being unbonded at such a late age, and now that situation is rectified, it shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

              Will stared at the wood on the top of the desk, doing nothing more than signing where he was told, vaguely listening to the rambling of the legalese as it poured from the attorney’s mouth.

              “Okay, you’re all set for now, then.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

              Will nodded, shook his hand, and finally escaped, driving back to the hospital as fast as he could make Hannibal’s Porsche go.  _His_ Porsche.

              He walked into the hospital feeling much more like a human than he had the day before, wearing proper clothes (even if they were slightly too big on him; an Alpha who was smaller than his mate, what a sight that would be!), carrying the bag full of things from Hannibal’s home.  He obtained his visitor’s pass and stepped into the elevator, fingers impatiently tapping against his thighs until the doors opened.

              The scent caused a reaction in him even before his conscious mind was able to register _unwelcome Alpha_.  Will raced down the hall to find three police officers outside of Hannibal’s room.  He charged in through the door to discover Jack, leaning over Hannibal’s bedside.  He dropped the bag on the floor and clenched his fists, raised  his shoulders as he bristled and _growled_.

              “Will.” Jack said, immediately straightening his posture.  Will’s eyes burned _fire_ into Jack, his voice growling deep and threatening.  Jack slowly took steps back, away from Hannibal and also Will, backing himself towards the wall, until he was at it and could go no further.

              Not letting his eyes leave Jack even to blink, Will walked forward until he was between Jack and Hannibal, his back to Hannibal, the veins in his arms in relief against his skin as he clenched his fists.

              “ _Mine_.” he snarled.

              “I’m not challenging that.” Jack said.  “I have no interest in Hannibal as a mate, Will.”

              It took Will a moment to focus enough to comprehend words.  When he did, there was no eloquence; only the bare truth of what he felt.

              “Want to imprison him.  Want to take him from me.” Will snapped.

              Jack opened his mouth, looked at Will’s face, then thought better of it.

              “We were only talking, Will.  I’m leaving now.  May I leave?”

              “Get out.” Will snarled, and Jack stepped toward the door, keeping his eyes trained on Will the entire time.  Even after he was gone, Will kept his eyes focused on the door, his hackles raised, ready for a fight at any moment.

              Then the gentlest brush of fingers touched his forearm, sending a pleasant tingling sensation up his skin.  Hannibal continued to stroke him, the tingling spreading up his neck and into his brain until he relaxed, his lips closing, his growl turning into a soft purr.

              He turned to see an amused and _proud_ expression on Hannibal’s face. 

              “You could have calmed me while he was still here.” Will said, trying to be argumentative.

              “I could have.  But that would have been so much less entertaining.”

              The tingling grew into a slow wave of peacefulness, and Will found himself struggling to argue.

              “Is that all I am to you?  Entertainment?”

              Hannibal gave another amused smile.

              “That is all _Jack_ is to me.”

              Will reached out his fingers to brush them along Hannibal’s cheek.  He watched his omega close his eyes then and lean into his touch, losing his composure in a way that Will knew he hadn’t intended to.

              “You open to me.” Will said.

              Hannibal’s eyes gazed up into his.

              “Yes.” he replied. 

              Will leaned down and pressed a long, slow, deep kiss to Hannibal’s lips.  He slid his lips over Hannibal’s repeatedly, sucking on them gently, pulling him into himself.  It was pleasure and it was heaven; exciting and yet calming all at once.  He inhaled deeply, Hannibal’s scent washing over him. 

              It was mixed with grease and sweat, however.

              Will pulled back, his eyes darting over to the bag.

              “I’ve brought you some things.” he said.  Hannibal cocked his head to the side in that way that was so _him_ , as Will walked over and picked up the bag, setting it on the chair beside the bed.

              “Hang on, I’m going to need the nurses to help me with this.”

              It took almost half an hour for the nurses to set Hannibal up in the large handicapped-accessible shower, complete with plastic seat and safety bars  Will was given _very strict_ instructions to _not allow his bandages to get wet_ , and in fact they were so concerned that one of them insisted on staying just outside the door should anything go wrong.  There was no semblance of privacy whatsoever, but Will didn’t care, and he could _smell_ Hannibal’s appreciation throughout the entire ordeal until finally, they were alone, Hannibal naked in the shower chair, Will standing in only pants beside him.

              He ran the water for a long time, until it was appropriately hot, then pulled the hand-tool down and walked behind Hannibal.

              “Tip your head back.” he said, and Hannibal did so, exposing his throat, closing his eyes, his entire body exposed in total surrender to Will.  Will gently ran the water over Hannibal’s hair, stroking his fingers through it, his heart glowing brighter as the seconds passed.  When Hannibal’s hair was good and wet he set the hand-tool back into its holder and poured shampoo into his palm, lathering it up, scrubbing deeply and gently into Hannibal’s scalp.

              “I never foresaw this in my future.” Hannibal said, a playful smile on his lips.  “I used to wash Bedelia’s hair in exactly this manner, when we lived in Florence.  I would imagine the scenario with you in it, Will, but never did I dream it would become real.”

              At the mention of Bedelia’s name, Will’s fingers fisted in Hannibal’s hair, enough to be possessive, but not enough to hurt.

              “What is she.” Will spat.

              “Unawakened Alpha.” Hannibal stated.  “Just one more of my many attempts to draw you to me; that time, through jealousy.”

              Will felt the rage within him, but the proximity of Hannibal kept him calm.  He reached for the hand-tool and sprayed the warm water over Hannibal’s hair, globs of soapy lather splattering over his bare feet.  He stroked his fingers through the perfectly straight, blond locks, until every bit of soap was gone.

              “Congratulations, you have succeeded.” Will said.  “I now want to kill Bedelia Du Maurier.”

              He watched a lovely smile bloom over the face of his omega.

              Will then lathered up a washcloth and began to clean the rest of Hannibal’s body, careful to stay far away from his torso.  Though Hannibal was perfectly capable of washing his own arms and chest, he instead allowed Will to do it, his Alpha doting over him with care and attention, cleaning every part of his body.  Will washed under his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back, standing behind him as he lazily rubbed the washcloth over his chest.  He gently washed his face, Hannibal closing his eyes with utmost trust, no longer afraid that Will might suddenly turn and attempt to kill him.

              The very thought made him want to vomit.

              He rinsed the soap off the washcloth and then wiped the soap away from Hannibal’s upper body.

              “Can you stand, so I can wash your more intimate parts?” Will asked.  He thought he should have felt embarrassed, or at least blush, from such a question, but instead it only felt natural.  It only felt right.  His omega needed him, and he would provide.

              Hannibal nodded, and with Will’s help, he stood, both hands clasping the safety bar on the side of the shower wall.  Will then ran the water over Hannibal’s ass, up between his legs, and down over his limp cock, still with catheter emerging from it.  He soaped up the washcloth and began to wash with warm, sure pressure, focusing on his task, doing his utmost to make sure Hannibal was _clean._

Once he rinsed him off he helped him sit down again, and then went to work washing his legs and feet.  He’d given up trying to keep his pants dry and knelt on the shower floor, carefully scrubbing between each of Hannibal’s toes, making sure that he got every inch.

              When he was done he shut off the water and Hannibal smiled tiredly up at him, completely drained of energy.  He was desperately trying to hide it, but Will could see he was shivering.  He ran from the shower and grabbed a towel from the bag with a fierceness like he was defending a city from attack, rigorously rubbing it over Hannibal’s hair and body to get every last drop of water off of him.

              He pulled out Hannibal’s own bathrobe, which he’d re-washed since it had smelled like closet, and helped him into it, along with a matching pair of cashmere slippers.

              Once Hannibal was safely settled back into his bed and the nurse left, Will turned to see tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

              “I haven’t any words, Will.” he whispered, and Will leaned down to stroke his fingers through Hannibal’s damp, clean hair.  He hovered his face a few inches above him and looked into his eyes.

              “You don’t need any.” he said.  “I already know.”

              They kissed again, for a long time, Will sighing into his mate’s mouth, soft hums escaping from both of their lips.  When Will pulled away he continued to hover just above Hannibal’s face.

              “I saw the lawyer before I came over.” he said.

              “How did that go?”

              “Fine.” Will said.  “The justice is coming tomorrow, to officially bind us by law.”

              He saw the flutter tug up at the corner of Hannibal’s lips, and could only imagine what it would be like once he could feel the emotion behind such an expression.

              “I also realized I’m still angry with you, about a lot of things.” Will said.  He saw the pain and regret in Hannibal’s eyes; then a moment later smelled it; the emotions so clear to him now.  Hannibal’s carefully maintained mask was useless against Will.

              Will reached up to stroke his fingers through Hannibal’s hair.

              “I want to bond with you anyway.” he said, softly.  “And I feel this way when I leave your side; when I was alone in your house, when I was without you in the lawyer’s office.  You were meant to be mine.”

              He saw the relief in Hannibal’s eyes, then, and brushed his fingers over his cheek.

              “You have me.  You’ve won.  I’m yours.” Will said.  His gaze then grew dark, and his eyes bore straight through Hannibal’s mask and directly into him.  “And when the time comes, I am going to take you for my own.”

              The softest, almost inaudible whine escaped Hannibal’s throat, and it roiled through Will’s blood.  He crashed their lips together, hungrily kissing Hannibal over and over, his hands tangled in his hair.  Will inhaled and smelled Hannibal’s desperate _need_ , need for _him_ , for Will, and he pulled back, gasping, panting.  Their eyes locked.

              “Alpha.” Hannibal said, and Will’s entire body grew pleasantly warm.

              “Mine.” he replied.

 

* * *

 

              Will spent the night in Hannibal’s bed.  He didn’t do much of sleeping, however, his mind busy turning over a thousand thoughts; running through a hundred memories, the last few days, and what he was about to do tomorrow.

              He was basically going to marry Hannibal. 

              Legally, and to the outside world, it was a bond-license; simply the paperwork that went along with the psychological bond that happened between Alphan-omegan couples.  Simply civilized society trying to fit nature and biology into neat little forms and checked boxes.

              During a bond-license verification, there was no question of choice.  The choice had already been made.  It was not a ceremony, the way a marriage was.  It was not a decision; merely a declaration of what already was.

              But because of their lie, for Will, this _was_ a choice.  He _didn’t_ have to show up tomorrow; he could steal a sailboat, travel to some other continent (not Europe, because that was as tainted with Hannibal as Baltimore was), and be free.  He’d still be an Alpha; that choice had been taken from him; but he could find somewhere solitary to spend his ruts, create a new pack of dogs, live a nice life in the mountains somewhere living on the fish he caught and deer he hunted. 

              And kill whomever came near him.

              He sighed and stared up at the ceiling.  He was very aware that Hannibal had awakened more in him than simply his Alphan biology.  Will was also a murderer; as Hannibal was.  Everything Hannibal had done had had a twofold purpose (or more); to awaken Will’s Alpha _and also_ , his killer.  Taking the life from Dolarhyde had felt _incredible_ , in a way that merely immobilizing him would not have.  Will wanted to do it again.  He wanted to hunt again.

              And he wanted to share it with Hannibal.

              He already knew that no matter where he went, he would always seek omegan company.  That was without question.  And he already knew that no omega would ever satisfy him when he had tasted Hannibal.

              He might have had a choice in the matter, but he didn’t want to choose anything else.

              Lastly, if Will abandoned Hannibal, he would be thrown back in prison, and Will’s instincts riled against that idea. 

              “I love you, you clever asshole.” he whispered into the darkness, the memory of Hannibal’s scent flooding his mind, making his heart rush faster and his skin glow. 

             

              Will arrived at 8 on the dot, the second visiting hours began.  The justice wasn’t scheduled to be there until ten.  Hannibal was still eating his breakfast—or rather was _staring_ at his breakfast, which consisted of nothing more than two pieces of toast, a bowl of oatmeal, and a carton of frozen orange juice.

              He was glaring at it with such hatred that Will couldn’t keep himself from bursting out in laughter.  Hannibal scowled, lifting his eyes to bore into Will’s skull, and he tried to calm down, but couldn’t quite chase the smile away.

              “I am going to perish from starvation, and this is amusing to you.” Hannibal said.  Will walked over to his side and sat gently on the edge of the bed, cupping Hannibal’s cheek in his palm.  He leaned their foreheads together, the delight at being once again close to his omega making his smile brighter.

              “I would never let that happen.” he said gently.  He then reached into the bag he’d brought and pulled out Hannibal’s own travel dishes, the steam of scrambled eggs mixed with fresh peppers and onions wafting up to both their noses when he unfastened the lid.

              Hannibal’s face turned upwards to him with watery, adoring eyes.

              “Fresh from our very own kitchen.” he said, lifting his eyes to lock onto Hannibal’s. “You’ll have to forgive me though; we’re clean out of meat.”

              Hannibal leaned upward into a fierce kiss, though it was short lived as he grabbed the plastic spoon off the tray and began eating as quickly as politeness would allow.

              Will could smell the adoration coming off of him.

              He sat in the chair and let him enjoy his meal, not speaking until he was finished, dabbing at his lips with the paper napkin as if it were made of silk.

              Once the meal was eaten Hannibal relaxed, leaning back against his pillows, eyes closed in satisfaction.

              “You still continually surprise me, Will; in the most delightful of ways.”

              Will forced a smile then, but there was no hiding the trepidation in his scent, and Hannibal’s eyes flew open the moment he smelled it.

              “What troubles you?”

              Will sighed and let his eyes wander down the blanket, avoiding eye contact; a gesture that was becoming more unfamiliar to him, now.

              “It was difficult, being alone in that kitchen, standing in the place where Abigail died, in the place where you took her from me.”

              His eyes darted up to Hannibal’s face and he saw the tightness pull around his eyes, followed by the deep, rancid smell of regret and guilt.

              “Had I known that it would not have awakened you, I never would have done it.” he said, his voice as tight as his expression, his guilt deepening.  “I was desperate, Will.  You were going to abandon me.”

              Will’s eyes fell to the floor as he understood, now, exactly the position Hannibal had been in. 

              “I didn’t lie when I’d said I’d forgiven you.” he said softly.  “But the pain, the loss, is still very deep.”

              For a moment, neither of them spoke.  Then Will felt warmth against the back of his hand as Hannibal reached for him, and he instinctually moved closer, letting Hannibal cradle his hand between his palm, feeling soothed from his touch, even as he was the source of his pain.

              Hannibal moved Will’s hand down to his abdomen, pressing it gently over his bandages.

              “The doctor tells me I am not permanently damaged.” he said, his voice gentle and soft in a manner that had Will confused for a moment. 

              “I know it doesn’t undo what I took from you.” Hannibal replied; “But I will provide other children, other daughters, for you.”

              Realizing now where Hannibal had placed his palm, Will’s breath hitched in his throat and his heart stopped.  He stared, allowing the promise Hannibal was offering him to sink in; his heart catching up to the situation much faster than his brain.  It wasn’t the sort of thing he thought about often, if ever; the kind of fact that a person knew but didn’t think about. 

              Male omegas could become pregnant.  Will could have children by Hannibal.  His breaths came too quickly and his eyes flashed to Hannibal’s face.

              “You know better than to breed.” he whispered, repeating the statement Hannibal had said to him concerning Wally, less than a month ago.

              “With anyone but _me_.” Hannibal replied.

              Will’s heart was racing.  He had already made up his mind, several times over, then again last night, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hannibal; share his entire being with him.  Mate with him, bond with him, kill with him.  And now he offered this.

              Will’s lips crushed to Hannibal’s, eagerly sucking them in, his hands framing his face, his fingers tangling in his hair.  Wild passion drove through him, making Hannibal whine softly under him, causing the blood to rush through Will’s ears, making him deaf.  He tasted Hannibal’s flavor and groaned, hardly aware that he rose to lie on the bed beside him, entangling their legs, wrapping his arms tightly around his mate.

              “I hate to interrupt, but I do have other appointments.” came an amused voice.  Will snapped his head around and before he could think, bared his teeth and growled.

              “Shhh.” Hannibal said, his fingers stroking through Will’s hair.  “It’s the justice.  We asked him to come.”

              Embarrassed and flustered, Will fumbled his way off of Hannibal and into a standing position, straightening his clothes as best he could before walking over to awkwardly shake the justice’s hand.

              “I’m sorry.” Will said, his voice shaking.  “It’s just all so…new.”

              The justice chuckled softly, an understanding smile in his eyes.

              “Believe me, I’ve seen it all.  You’re hardly the first newly bonded couple I’ve verified.  Now, shall we get started?”

              Will nodded, and the justice pulled out a laptop and a sealed kit of impression gel.  He started typing, the first several questions routine and boring enough that Will started to relax.

              They went over full names and birthdates, social security numbers and their address. 

              “And the bonding happened when?”

              “Three days ago.” Hannibal said, the proud smile on his lips genuine, even though the statement was a total lie.  Will felt his thumb stroke over the back of his hand to calm him, and he hadn’t even realized their fingers had become intertwined until then.

              “Mmm-hmm.” the justice said.  He set his laptop down and tore the plastic seal off the impression kit.

              “All right, I’ll just need to verify this with impressions of the teeth marks.”

              He put on a pair of gloves, rose and walked towards them, something like a small toothpaste tube in his hand.  He stood on the side of the bed opposite Hannibal and reached his hand across his neck, towards the bite mark.  Hannibal started to tilt his head away to let the justice take the impression, when a raging fire sprang through Will.

              He snarled viciously, his hands flying to cover Hannibal’s neck, the upper half of his body moving over Hannibal to block the justice from getting any closer.  The justice paused in his step, doing his best not to show his fear, but Will could smell it on him, anyway.  It made him feel satisfied, and he almost felt angry at Hannibal for reaching up to stroke calming fingers through his hair.  He was busy _protecting_ , didn’t Hannibal realize that?

              “Shhhh.” Hannibal whispered in his ear, his lips soft and soothing on Will’s skin.  “He is here to help us, Will.  You must calm down.”

              Will’s mind came back to him and he suddenly didn’t understand his own reaction.  He understood the reason for the procedure and knew the teeth marks _would_ match- they were his!  Yet something about their falseness made him desperate to defend their secret.  He concentrated on Hannibal’s fingers, stroking his neck, on his lips, brushing against his ear.  He shook as he warred with himself, his mind versus his emotions, a battle that was all too familiar to him, and at the same time, entirely new.

              Finally, Will managed to back himself away, his eyes fierce as he watched the justice cautiously squeeze the gel from the tube and spread it over the bite mark on Hannibal’s neck.  They waited the thirty seconds for the gel to dry, and then he peeled it gently from Hannibal’s neck, leaving behind the shape of Will’s teeth marks.

              “Now I need impressions of your teeth, Will.” he said, pulling out a U-shaped contraption.  He peeled the seal off of it and Will saw it was full of the same gel.  The justice held it up to his lips, and Will reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed the thing in.

              “Bite down, please.”

              He made a face at the flavor, and the odd sensation of it surrounding his teeth, but the ordeal didn’t last long and then it was removed.

              The justice then inserted wire nodes into the gels, connecting them to his laptop, and they waited while the program determined whether they were a match.  Will held his breath as the justice’s face remained passive, staring at the screen.  Then he smiled.

              “Ah, 97% chance that these are your teeth marks.” the justice said, smiling at Will.  “Congratulations.”

              Will forced a smile, and somehow, Hannibal gave a genuine one.

              The justice sat back down and began typing again.

              “Alright, now for the fun part.” he said, smiling at what to him, appeared to be two new lovebirds.

              “Do you, Hannibal Lecter, legally swear that you are bonded to Will Graham and willingly desire to have all your properties and person transferred to his ownership under the law?”

              “I do.” Hannibal said, and Will’s cheeks flushed hot.  He smelled the sincerity coming off of Hannibal…and the _happiness_. 

              “And do you Will Graham, accept responsibility for the well-being of Hannibal Lecter, and swear to protect him, provide for him, and be accountable for him in all circumstances until his death?”

              Will’s eyes felt as wide as saucers.  Hannibal gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and again, he breathed in those calming hormones.  This was all becoming very real.  If himself from a week ago looked at his life now, he wouldn’t recognize it.

              Hannibal leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.  The motion sent a tingle of pleasant sensation over Will’s skin.

              “Yes.” Will said.  He cleared his throat and managed to make eye-contact with the justice.  “I do.”

              The justice nodded satisfactorily.

              “Then by the power invested in me by the state of Maryland, I declare you legally bonded.  Here is the document, you both need to sign…”

              The last time Will had watched Hannibal sign his name, it had been him declaring him legally sane and fit to work for the FBI.  He almost laughed at how the tables had turned since then.

              Watching his hand, almost not present in the moment, Will signed his name to the document, legally declaring himself bonded to Hannibal Lecter, of his own free will, fully knowing who and what Hannibal was.  When his pen finished the stroke, he felt Hannibal tighten his hand just a hair, and then he signed his own name.

              “And does he wish to change his name?”

              Will stared for a moment, not understanding why the justice was asking _him_.  Then he realized that, if they were actually bonded, _he would know_.  Will was expected to speak for Hannibal.  Even to declare his legal wishes.

              “What do you think, my Alpha?  Should I become Hannibal Graham?” Hannibal whispered into Will’s ear.

              Even without a bond, Will was still certain of Hannibal’s answer.

              “No.” he said.  The justice paused, listening for his wishes.  For _Will’s_ wishes, concerning Hannibal’s name.

              “He will be Hannibal Lecter-Graham, hyphenated.”

              Will smelled a surge of happiness spring from Hannibal.  He turned his face to Hannibal’s and gazed into his eyes while he whispered softly.

              “I fell in love with Hannibal Lecter.” he said.  He leaned down and pressed a long, warm kiss to Hannibal’s lips, and felt Hannibal’s uncuffed hand tighten around his fingers once more.  His heart glowed in his chest, and he closed his eyes, thinking about how much affection he was feeling.  He felt Hannibal inhale sharply and smirked, having released the hormones he was after.

              Will opened his eyes and Hannibal’s gaze was dark and needy.

              “You will be my undoing, Will Graham.” he said.  Will kept their eyes locked and reached up to comb his fingers through Hannibal’s hair.

              “You have already been mine.” he said, and kissed him softly, slowly, dragging his lips over Hannibal’s for so long that the justice cleared his throat to get their attention back.

              With a groan of annoyance, Will lifted his head and turned to face him.

              “You are now legally bonded.  Congratulations, Mr. Graham, Hannibal is yours.”

              He handed Will a document, and he stared at it, the words swimming on the page as he blinked and tried to read them.

              It was a title.  Of ownership.  No different than of a house or car.  His heart started to race.  This was legal.  This was _real_.

              “I believe my services are finished.  I will send copies of all the paperwork to your lawyer, as you have requested.”

              Will nodded, numbly, his eyes staring almost blankly as he tried to take all of this in.

              “Thank you.” he said, and the justice nodded politely, then was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

              Will’s phone had been ringing incessantly for probably a good five minutes before he finally roused from sleep, his eyes squinting as he stared at the clock.  6 am.  He groaned and picked the phone up, unwisely not checking to see who it was.

              “’lo?” he mumbled.

              “ _You have applied for legal custody of Hannibal Lecter!?_ ” Jack’s voice screamed at him.  Will sat up, rubbing his forehead, trying to banish the headache that always seemed to accompany Jack’s voice.

              “Good morning, Jack.” he managed.  For the past two weeks, Will had spent nearly every waking hour at the hospital, overseeing Hannibal’s care, bringing him fresh, home-cooked meals, and attending physical therapy for his own shoulder.  The stitches were finally removed, leaving a hideous pink scar over his cheek that thankfully, was mostly covered up by his beard.

              “Will, he’s a _convicted serial killer_!  Whom _you helped to apprehend_!”

              Will’s sleepiness wore off and he rose to his feet.

              “I don’t appreciate your tone, _Jack_.” he spat.  “We’ve had the paperwork in for weeks, you’ve known this was coming.”

              “No, I didn’t, because you _completely failed to mention this at any point, Will_.” Jack screamed.  “I found out this morning, when my officers went to pick him up only to be stopped by hospital security.”

              Will’s entire body tensed and he clutched his phone tightly, forcing his voice to remain calm.  Jack was at the hospital, _right now_ , attempting to take Hannibal back into custody.  He thrust open the closet door and tore down the first pair of pants he saw, yanking them on with one hand.

              “I guess I forgot to tell you.  Oops.”

              “Will!”

              “Jack.”

              “Hannibal _belongs in federal custody_ , Will.”

              Will bared his teeth in anger, even though Jack couldn’t see over the phone.  He spotted the sweater he’d been wearing last night and tossed it on, his heart racing from fear that Jack was going to take Hannibal from him.

              “He belongs in _my_ custody, and while the FBI is challenging that, I have been granted temporary custody over Hannibal until the matter is settled.  You’re not taking him anywhere.”

              He could practically smell Jack’s rage through the phone.

              “The hormones must have gone to your head if you think you are capable of keeping him from doing what he does best, which is _eating people_.”

              Will snarled into the phone.

              “I’m capable of doing whatever I please with Hannibal.”

              Silence.

              “ I’m on my way to the hospital _right now_ , and you had better not get in my way, Jack.”

              Jack’s breathing carried over the phone and Will almost, _almost_ felt sorry for him.

              “I am going to throw you _both_ into prison, where you belong!”

              The line went dead.

              Will rushed to pull on socks and shoes and was out the door, breaking every traffic law as he sped towards the hospital.  He marched out of the elevator in a rage, storming towards Hannibal’s room, outside of which there was an uncomfortable amount of hospital security officers and FBI agents.

              “Mr. Graham!” the ward nurse said, running over to him in a panic.  “I tried to call you, sir, but you must have been asleep!  We keep telling these agents that Hannibal is _not_ healthy enough to be released…”

              “Thank you, Terry.” Will said.  “I’ll settle it.”

              He pushed the door to Hannibal’s room open so hard it banged against the wall.  His eyes burned daggers into Jack’s face.

              “Get out.” he said, his voice low and threatening.  Jack did not back down, this time.  He turned, standing between Will and Hannibal, two FBI agents on either side of Hannibal’s bed, to which he was still handcuffed.  Hannibal’s face was as still as ice.

              “The doctor tells me Hannibal is well enough that his care can be completed at the BSHCI, which has an excellent medical facility.” Jack said calmly. 

              Will _bristled_ , his hands balled into tight fists, his jaw set in a fierce snarl.  His eyes darted to the doctor, whom he did not recognize.

              “This is not Hannibal’s doctor.” Will said, forcing his voice to remain as calm and civil as possible…not that he’d ever had much ability to keep emotion out of his voice.

              “No, he’s the FBI’s.  He is still medically qualified to make such a decision, I assure you.”

              Will’s brain raced through the scenario.  He’d been stupid enough to leave the paperwork for his temporary custody at home, which was probably _exactly_ why Jack had called him…trying to agitate him.  Trying to get him to react violently and probably get _himself_ arrested, so that Jack could cart Hannibal off to the asylum.

              Once Hannibal was back in Jack’s custody, it would be much, much harder for Will to convince any court that he should be released.

              Will’s eyes darted to Hannibal’s and for the first time, found himself wishing their bond was real.  Hannibal had, no doubt, at least three ideas on how to get out of this.  Will had none.

              Maybe he could just stall, for now.

              “I want our doctor to examine him.” Will said.  “As of yesterday, I wasn’t informed that Hannibal was well enough to be released.”

              “He already did, this morning.  He agreed with our doctor’s assessment.”

              Will saw Hannibal’s eyes flash to his face and froze in place.  Something wasn’t right.  Hannibal wasn’t speaking.  He wasn’t using his silver tongue to get out of the situation…because _Will was supposed to know what he was thinking_.

              “Did he?” Will said, and he saw the minutest of twitches in Hannibal’s expression, now that he was paying attention.  A flicker so small that only Will knew him well enough to catch.  “And what was that doctor’s name, Jack?”

              Jack shifted in his stance just slightly, but Will could smell the scent of deceit coming off of him, now. 

              “Why, Dr. Nalbert, of course.” Jack said.  Will ticked his head to the side.

              “You wouldn’t mind me reading through the report of that examination now, would you?” he said, his voice turning icy.  He saw Jack swallow nervously.  Smelled his fear. 

              “Hmmm.” Will said.  “It seems you would.  Because there is no examination from our doctor, is there?”

              “What makes you so sure of that?” Jack asked.  Will took a step forward, and his scowl must have been threatening, because the two agents that flanked Jack each took a step back.  Jack remained where he was.

              “Our bond might be new, but I can hear my mate screaming that this is all a lie.” Will said.  “I can feel his discomfort and agitation.  Hannibal’s face might not show it, but he can’t hide his emotions from me.  Your doctor examined him alone, didn’t he?  Without my explicit consent.”

              Will’s eyes were now inches from Jack’s.  Jack was as steady as a mountain, staring directly back into Will’s face.

              “You’re playing an incredibly dangerous game, Will Graham.” he said.  “I am not a stupid man.”

              “Neither am I.” Will replied.  “And it is illegal to perform medical treatment on an omega without their Alpha’s consent, unless their life is in danger, which Hannibal’s is not.  So you’d better leave, _now_ , before I press charges.”

              Jack leaned forward and spoke softly.

              “That law only applies to those who are actually _bonded_.”

              “If you’d like to add that to your list of challenges to the court, I invite you to.” Will spat back.  “But again, until then, Hannibal is _mine_.  _Leave_.”

              Jack straightened, his eyes darting over to the doctor, who was now looking very uncomfortable.  Will didn’t know what Jack had told him, but _he_ looked convinced by Will’s act, and was probably worrying about keeping his medical license, at this point.

              “Then I will see you in court.” Jack said and walked around Will, who turned to keep his face towards Jack as he left, his agents and the doctor following behind him.

              Will was at Hannibal’s side instantly, yanking the blanket back, running his eyes and hands over Hannibal’s body, inspecting him for injuries.

              “Will.” Hannibal said, but Will continued his frantic inspection.

              “Will.  _Will_.” Hannibal repeated, until Will stopped, snapping his worried face to finally look at Hannibal.

              “I am unharmed.”

              Will’s hands clasped on either side of Hannibal’s face and he brought their foreheads together, allowing his nerves to show now, trembling from the fear he’d been hiding.

              “You couldn’t speak, or Jack’s suspicions would have been further ignited.”

              A proud smile spread over Hannibal’s lips.

              “You were smart enough to catch my meaning.”

              Will gave a pained smile.

              “It was still hell to go through.  I wish your heat would come already, so we didn’t have to go through this.”

              He felt Hannibal’s palm against his cheek.

              “Unfortunately, this is necessary to keep me out of Jack’s greedy paws.”

              Will sighed heavily.

              “When is it?” he whispered, a slight blush rushing to his cheeks as he asked the most personal of questions.

              “Not for two months, yet.”

              Will sighed heavily.

              “Then we’re going to have to fake our way through a court case.  Wonderful.”

              He melted from exhaustion, laying his head against Hannibal’s chest.  Hannibal’s fingers combed through his curls, sending calming waves through his skin, though Will could not seem to get his heart to slow.

              “You did excellently just now, without any preparation at all.” Hannibal replied.  “I have complete faith in you.”

              “That makes one of us.” Will replied.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some plotless smut.

              Hannibal was close to being well enough to come home after all, and within two days he was released.  Will brought him the specific clothes he requested, insisting on a full three-piece suit, as he would _not_ been seen in the public streets in anything but.  Will drove the Cadillac, because it had the smoothest ride, and was very careful to stop gently and accelerate slowly, mindful of the seatbelt that went directly across Hannibal’s injured abdomen.

              When they crossed the threshold Hannibal stopped, pausing to inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of his home.  His eyes wandered over the décor, taking in his paintings, his sculptures, his furniture.  He then took a longer, deeper breath, and opened his eyes to gaze at Will.

              “Your scent has fully permeated the air.” he said.  Will gave him a half-smile, the scarred cheek still tight and unwilling to move.

              “Welcome home.” Will said.

              Hannibal took in the foyer once more, his eyes tearing a bit at the edges.

              “It’s been far too long.”

              Will felt a welling of different emotions.  Hannibal had deserved to be locked up for a long list of his own actions, many of which had little to do with Will.  Yet the fact that he’d _been_ locked up was directly related to Will—he’d only turned himself in as a last, desperate move to try to get Will to awaken to him.  The guilt of that had been powerful enough to drive Will to free Hannibal while he was still a sleeping beta, and now it weighed even more heavily upon him. 

              “We’ve both done plenty to hurt each other.  There is no need to dwell on it.” Hannibal replied; and Will sighed as he realized that hiding things from Hannibal—which he’d spent their entire relationship doing—was soon going to become a useless endeavor.

              “Isn’t there?” Will replied, as Hannibal walked towards the stairs, his eyes taking in his home with relief and happiness.  He clasped the rail tightly with his right hand and Will hovered beside him on his left; the protective instincts of being an Alpha ever-present, even as Will argued with him. “What will happen to us, if when we bond everything between us has been left without resolution?  We’ve nearly destroyed each other as separate people.  Imagine once I’m inside your mind.”

              Hannibal paused at the top of the stairs to seriously think about Will’s words.

              “We should continue our conversations.” he said.  Will stepped close to Hannibal and brushed his fingers over his cheek.

              “No.” Will said.  “We should start them.”

              He looked into his eyes, and Will saw the depth of them. 

              “Honesty between us is a fledgling only three weeks old.” he said.  “It isn’t enough.  If we’re going to withstand being inside one another, we have to start now.”

              Hannibal tipped his head forward until their foreheads rested against one another.

              “You already know more truth about me than anyone who walks this earth.” Hannibal said softly.  “Yet you are correct.  There is so much more to be revealed.”

              With his agreement, Hannibal let go of the rail and began walking slowly towards the master bedroom.  Will slid his hand down to clasp Hannibal’s arm, steadying him.

              “Will, I am not an invalid.  I am perfectly capable of crossing a room.”

              Will didn’t loosen his grip an inch.

              “Oh, you don’t get to take it back _now_.” he said.  “You wanted an Alpha, you get an Alpha.  Overprotective tendencies and all.”

              Hannibal shot him an annoyed look, but he put up with Will as he crossed the large room, pacing himself despite his words of bravado.

              While he allowed Will to help him into the bathroom, once he was there he shooed him out, insisting he was perfectly safe.  Will agreed only if he promised to leave the door unlocked.  He sat down on the bed in which he’d been sleeping for the past few weeks, oddly feeling out of place now that its owner was home.  He wondered what it would be like to sleep with Hannibal beside him.  His heart fluttered at the idea.

              The bathroom door opened, steam pouring out into the master bedroom, Hannibal standing before Will in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.  Will’s heart raced a little faster at scent of him, now clean.

              “I do need assistance re-bandaging myself.” he said.

              Will nodded and helped Hannibal to sit on the toilet; the expression on his face too stoic, even for him, as he tried to hide his pain.  Will began fussing, cleaning the wound according to the instructions he’d been given, bandaging it exactly as the doctors had told him, ignoring Hannibal’s insistence that it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

              “Will you allow me to cook, or are knives and stoves too dangerous for me now, as well?” Hannibal joked.  Will reached down with his fingers and cupped them under Hannibal’s chin, a gesture he’d never done before and found incredibly satisfying.  Hannibal looked up into his eyes and Will felt himself open, much farther than he’d been prepared for.

              “Stop acting like I didn’t almost lose you.” he whispered, his lips giving away the slightest tremble. 

              Hannibal reached his hand up to stroke Will’s scarred cheek and he closed his eyes, allowing the pain he felt to show on his face.

              “We did come close to our end.” he said quietly.  He opened his eyes and ran his thumb across Will’s scar.  “But we are not the same men who nearly died.  We are more powerful now than either of us realizes, yet.”

                They shared a lingering, soft kiss, and then Will stood up, offering his hand.

              “I would never deny you your cooking.  I might as well deny you breath.” Will said.  He saw an actual blush rise to Hannibal’s cheeks, and then a second later smelled his affection.  Will heard a soft purr, and it took a moment to realize it had been him.

              Watching Hannibal back in his kitchen, after all that had happened, after all that had changed, gave Will an indescribable feeling of joy.  It was comforting and familiar, it was new and brilliant, and most of all, it was _right_.  He watched him chop like he’d been doing it yesterday, as graceful with the knife on celery and onions as he was with it cutting the Dragon’s flesh.

              Will had gone grocery shopping the day before, with the extensive list Hannibal had given him, and he greatly enjoyed watching him take the raw ingredients and turn them slowly into art.  He sipped his wine now and then, nearly forgetting about it, lost in the beautiful creature before him, the person that he _already_ lived for and would die for.  He couldn’t imagine that soon they would be even closer; tied, inseparable, truly one life instead of two.

              Hannibal didn’t show a hint of weakness or fatigue until the very end, when his hand shook as he tried to lift the entire finished meal on the large silver serving tray.  The dishes clattered as he tried to lift it, and it slipped, but before it could fall to the counter Will’s hands were over his, clasping firmly over the handles.

              “Let me do this one small thing for you.” Will whispered in his ear.  “Meet me at the table, my mate.”

              He watched the blood rush to Hannibal’s ear and inhaled the sweet scent of his pleasure.  Hannibal nodded without argument, almost dazed as he walked out of the kitchen.  Will waited until he heard the scrape of his chair pull in and he lifted the tray, pushing the swinging kitchen door open with his ass as he’d seen Hannibal do a hundred times.

              He tried his best to place the tray on the table with at least the same level of dignity Hannibal would have, though he didn’t have the same type of grace.  Hannibal still smiled up at him, and recited to him the name of the dish, though Will was lost in the sound of his voice so that he could not hear the words.

              With the first bite, flavor exploded through Will’s mouth such that he had never tasted.  He inhaled deeply, slowly, his eyes fluttering closed as he was temporarily overwhelmed by taste. 

              “It’s incredible.” he whispered.

              “Your senses have fully awakened.” Hannibal replied, scenting the bouquet of his wine before taking a sip, a smile permanently on his face as he watched Will savor every bite, slowly, analyzing everything that crossed his tongue.

              “I have never enjoyed a meal by you before now.” Will said, the food before him almost disappearing in a haze, so surrounded by delicious flavors he was.  “I can almost _see_ how the wine brings out the tang in the sauce, the slight bitterness in the vegetables, balanced by the sweetness of the grapes…”

              Hannibal simply watched him, entranced, his eyes never leaving Will’s face, darting from his lips to his eyes to his cheeks.

              “It is more incredible than I’d imagined; having you here, seeing me clearly.” Hannibal said.  Will looked up from his last bite and gave him a blushing smile.

              “I was a fool to resist this.”

              He saw the heat flush across Hannibal’s skin, and his nostrils flared as the scent of his arousal flowed deep into Will’s lungs.

              Dropping his silverware onto his plate with a clatter, Will rose and walked around the table, cupping Hannibal’s chin in one hand as he lifted his face up to press a deep, lasting kiss to his lips.  Hannibal moaned softly up into him, the vibrations from his voice singing down into Will, Hannibal’s scent wafting over his brain, rushing through his blood.

              He combed his other hand through Hannibal’s hair, breathing in the scent of him.  He opened his lips and closed them softly against Hannibal’s, soft, wet sounds echoing through the otherwise silent dining room.  Hannibal’s moans danced through Will’s ears, driving his kiss in deeper, his tongue pushing its way into Hannibal’s mouth.

              And he relented, allowing Will in, opening his mouth to eagerly be taken.  Heat bloomed through Will’s body, his fingers tightening in Hannibal’s hair.  At the strength of his grip, Hannibal let out a soft, gentle whine.  The sound of it set Will’s blood on fire.  He growled deep and low, his hands moving down under Hannibal’s arms, yanking him to his feet and pushing him back against the wall.  The pictures clattered and Hannibal groaned, wrapping his arms tightly around Will’s back as Will crushed him to the wall.

              “Alpha.” Hannibal whispered.  Will’s lips left Hannibal’s to travel across his jaw and down his throat, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses across his skin, licking in his scent, leaving trails of his drool to mark him, if only temporarily.  He buried his lips and nose into the crook on Hannibal’s neck, and he responded with a shiver, his fingers clutching into the fabric of Will’s shirt.  Will sucked the warm flesh into his mouth, eliciting groans and whines that drove him to suck more, harder, his body crushing Hannibal to the wall.

              Will inhaled and the scent of Hannibal’s slick pierced through the haze, driving him mad.  His entire body tensed, his hands flying to Hannibal’s wrists, slamming them into the wall beside Hannibal’s head.  He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, and Will’s lips left his neck to trace along his collar bone and across his throat, nipping at his Adam’s apple, purring when Hannibal whined, each of their actions causing a near instant response in the other.

              Will rose and ground his hips against Hannibal’s, feeling his erection through his trousers.  Their eyes locked and Will pushed into him again, rocking his hips, grinding into his mate, pressing kisses to his lips when he could bear to tear his eyes away.

              The scent of Hannibal’s slick grew stronger and caused the tightness in Will’s pants to become uncomfortable.  His jaw trembled and his hands flew down to his zipper, releasing his cock as it grew to twice the size he was used to it being; though he was too hazed and lost to think much about that or care.

              Hannibal’s hand was around it instantly, and Will groaned, continuing to rock his hips, fucking Hannibal’s hand as more whines escaped from his lips.

              “Please....Will…” he begged, his voice shaky and full of arousal as he tried to spread his legs, though couldn’t really because of his tight trousers.

              “Couch.” Will said, entwining their fingers together and leading Hannibal towards the parlor. 

              He pushed Hannibal down into the leather and he went, eagerly lying on his back, lifting his hips as Will unzipped his pants and carefully pulled them down.  The scent of slick slammed into him, driving him wild.  He yanked Hannibal’s knees open, running a tongue down the inside of his thigh, the heady scent drowning him in pleasure.

              Hannibal’s mewl when his tongue licked over his hole was enough to make Will die happy.  His hand flew to cover his mouth as Will licked him again and again, drinking in the sweetest ambrosia he’d ever tasted; all of Hannibal’s meals paled in comparison to this.  The warmth of his mate’s skin, the song of his voice, his sweet flavor and persistent scent of affection and arousal was indescribably heaven.

              Will teased Hannibal until he was a melting puddle of sweat and pheromones under him.  He rose and smacked his lips, gazing down at his mate with half-lidded eyes.  He only now went to unbutton Hannibal’s shirt, his fingers shaking with haste.  He tore his own shirt off in seconds and they were finally naked, skin-to-skin, for the first time since Will had awakened.

              Will rose to cover Hannibal’s body with his, Hannibal’s eyes begging him, _pleading_ with him.  Will gave him one last kiss, neither of them caring about the mess of slick that was all over his face, brains too hormone-laden to care about anything else.

              Will pressed the tip of his cock against Hannibal’s hole and pushed.  He slid in so easily; Hannibal was so ready, so open for him.  He whined with pleasure, desire pulsing through Will in waves, along with his heartbeat. 

              “Ohhhhhh…” he groaned as Hannibal sucked him in, his body trembling, eager, _hungry_ for Will to fill him.  Will felt heat and pressure surround him in the most pleasurable of ways, his hips moving back to drive himself in further, every color of the universe spreading through his nerves.  He watched Hannibal’s face, the mask that he always wore crumbling with every thrust, his eyes closing as his heart opened.  Will breathed in, Hannibal swimming into his body in every way, the man he loved trembling beneath him, so open, so trusting, so _vulnerable_. 

              Will put his hands on his shoulders and pressed him down into the couch.  Hannibal whined and lifted his hips, begging for more.  Will gave it to him, thrusting harder and harder, the pressure rising until he felt Hannibal shiver around him.

              “Alpha!” he cried, his voice like nothing Will had ever heard before, and yet it was more him than he’d ever known.  Hannibal came, white streams of his pleasure spreading across his chest, the scent of it driving Will mad.  He drove in harder, pounding into Hannibal, feeling his knot starting to form. 

              He’d barely been aware of it the last time; but this time he could feel it, rising from the base of his cock, growing larger and harder with each push into Hannibal, stretching him as he lifted his hips and begged for more.

              Then Hannibal gave a different kind of whimper, and Will smelled the distress spring up from his pores.  He pulled back and stopped immediately, eyes wide as saucers, his brain not able to find the words he needed.

              “Hurt?”

              Hannibal nodded, tears springing at the corners of his eyes, guilt covering his face.  Will’s hands flew to wipe the tears away, then down to Hannibal’s stomach, hovering over the bandages, his fingers shaking with terror.

              “My omega, I’m so sorry, have to protect, keep safe…”

              Hannibal’s hands were holding his tightly, steadying him.

              “Shhhh.” Hannibal whispered.  “It’s not permanent.  I merely cannot take a full knot yet, I assume.”

              Will still couldn’t assuage his guilt, his chin trembling as he forced his eyes closed, his hands pulling out of Hannibal’s to stroke his knees, his hips, his thighs, trying to soothe, trying to make it right.

              Hannibal sat up slowly, wincing, and Will pulled him tightly into his arms, cradling him to his chest.

              “Will, I’m alright.” Hannibal said.  Will’s body was laden with hormones; all of his instincts were in overdrive.  He couldn’t bear the thought that Hannibal had been hurt for even a moment and he didn’t know how to make it right.

              Hannibal’s lips pressed against his chest, gently at first, but then with more heat, his head slipping down to suck one of Will’s nipples into his mouth.  Will tried to fight him, his hands pulling his head away for a moment.

              “Can’t hurt you…” he said.  Hannibal gave him an expression that said _trust me_ , and Will relented, allowing his mouth to close again on his skin, kissing his way down Will’s chest until the tip of his cock brushed against the underside of Hannibal’s chin.

              Hannibal slid himself down to kneel on the floor, his body pushing Will’s legs open, his tongue licking long, lascivious stripes up Will’s thigh.

              “Hannibal…”

              Hannibal didn’t reply, his eyes darting up to Will’s face as he brought his tongue around to lick the base of his cock, just below where his half-formed knot was sitting.  Will shook and groaned, his back melting into the couch as Hannibal’s tongue licked over his sensitive flesh.  He pressed his tongue hard over his knot, dragging broad licks over it, sucking one side into his mouth, driving Will insane.

              He dragged his bottom lip up the length of Will’s cock, his eyes looking up to lock onto Will’s as he opened his mouth and took Will’s tip in.

              Will keened, his fingers tightening in Hannibal’s hair, pushing his head down while he thrust his hips up.  Hannibal’s moan was long and satisfied before it was cut off by Will’s cock, his tongue pressing his tip tightly against the roof of his mouth, savoring him more than any other human flesh he’d ever tasted. 

              Hannibal sucked, and Will cried out, his hips driving him up into the heat without his thinking about it, the pleasure altogether different and amazing.  His knot responded all the same, swelling its way up his length, until it was pushing against Hannibal’s lips.

              Will looked down at Hannibal from underneath sweaty bangs, his omega’s eyes giving him a mischievous expression as his only warning.

              “Hanni--!” Will cried, his fingers entwined so tightly in Hannibal’s hair it had to hurt, and he tried to pull Hannibal’s head away. 

              Hannibal grunted and pushed down with all his force, opening his mouth fully wide, sucking Will’s knot into himself.  Will screamed with pleasure as it swelled, the unforgiving cavity of Hannibal’s mouth causing a deep fire of pleasure to spring down through Will’s nerves.  He tried to pull back, finding himself trapped behind Hannibal’s teeth, knotted just as if he were inside his ass.  The sensation was incredible, and then Hannibal bit down.

              Will came instantly, his knot crushed more tightly than it was ever meant to be.  Hannibal swallowed quickly, drinking Will down, taking the few seconds between spurts to inhale through his nose before the next release.  Will hunched forward, his entire stomach contracting as his balls pulled against his body, until he was curled around Hannibal’s head, his hair pressed into his stomach, Will’s eyes staring down Hannibal’s back as he came, again and again, the knot keeping him firmly in Hannibal’s mouth.

              The second his knot started to go down Will yanked himself out, not caring that Hannibal’s teeth scraped him.  Hannibal gasped for air, cum dripping from his mouth even as Will continued to produce more.  Hannibal’s mouth was back, and Will growled a warning.

              “I won’t.” Hannibal promised, opening his mouth only to suck, to drink in the next stream, not sucking Will back into him.  Will melted, exhausted, back into the couch, as his cock finally calmed down, his knot receding back to his base and fading.

              Hannibal crawled up beside him, and though he felt like being cross, Will pulled him into his arms and cradled him against his chest.

              “You could have choked.”

              “It was incredible.”

              Will sighed heavily.

              “It was incredible.”

              Hannibal purred and snuggled into him, pushing their sticky bodies close together.  Will reached up and combed his fingers through his hair pressing light kisses to his forehead and temple, over and over.

              “I am confident in my ability to know what I am capable of consuming.” Hannibal replied.  Will rolled his eyes.

              “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous.  I don’t want to hurt you in _any_ manner, Hannibal.”

              Hannibal laughed, albeit briefly, before a hand went to cover his sore abdomen.

              “This, from the man who used to try to stab me.”

              “Oh don’t you start, person who has given me more scars than anyone.”

              Hannibal purred and snuggled against his skin.  Will wrapped his arms more tightly around him.

              “I had to pleasure you.” Hannibal said.  “And you cannot deny you enjoyed it.”

              Will sighed. 

              “I can’t.”

              They didn’t have the energy to speak after that, both shifting until they were lying on the couch, Hannibal tucked tightly into Will’s arms, Will keeping Hannibal protected between his body and the back of the couch.  There were a few more light kisses and strokes of fingers, and then they were asleep, naked and messy, entangled and satisfied.

             


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, beta'ed by the lovely [victorine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine) .
> 
> [My tumblr](http://evenunevenme.tumblr.com/) , drop me headcanons or come to chat about my stories over there if you like!

The next few days were strange and wonderful.  Will had gotten used to living in Hannibal’s house alone, though it had almost felt like he was there.  His touch was in every decorative piece, his taste in every room, and Will had felt like he was around every corner, just out of sight. 

              Now that he was actually there, the echoes of the past vanished like shadows, replaced by the actual thing that had cast them.  Hannibal himself seemed almost unreal, walking from room to room,  standing in the center of each one, breathing, taking it all in.  Will found himself doing nothing but watching him, staying on the sidelines, leaning against doorframes with crossed arms as he observed the person who had so firmly planted himself at the center of Will’s universe.

              When Hannibal walked slowly towards his harpsichord, reverently stroking his fingers along the keys too lightly to make a sound, Will felt a lump form in his throat.

              “I’ll never let them imprison you again.” he whispered.  Hannibal turned his face towards him, his expression as impassive as always; yet his scent gave away a thousand emotions, most of which Will’s nose was not yet trained enough to name.

              “Three years, I dreamed of hearing you say that.” Hannibal said softly.  Guilt crept up Will’s spine.  He stepped towards Hannibal until they were close enough to touch, though he kept his hands to himself.

              “While I wish things had gone differently in so many ways, I also can’t imagine how else they could have gone.” Will said quietly.  Hannibal looked up, his eyes staring out the large glass windows onto the back lawn, the sunlight reflecting in them too brightly.  Will was used to seeing those eyes in the dark.

              “I was trying to bring you to yourself, Will.  I did not expect the journey to be easy for you.  What I failed to anticipate was how difficult it would be for myself.”

              Will knew Hannibal smelled his guilt, then. 

              “You have nothing to feel remorse for.” Hannibal said.  “I’m the one who fell in love with my patient, after all.”

              Will lifted his hand to Hannibal’s shoulder, then.

              “Neither of us could help what happened.”

              Hannibal turned, and Will saw the remorse he was hiding behind his own eyes.  His gaze drifted down Will’s body to fall just above his waist.

              “We both have abdominal scars, now.” Hannibal said.

              “And many others.” Will added, sliding his hand up Hannibal’s shoulder to rest his palm on his cheek.  “We’ve earned them, as we’ve earned each other.”

              Hannibal gazed down at him, his eyes growing a bit lighter, but they remained uneasy.

              “What is it?” Will asked, brushing his fingers over Hannibal’s cheek. 

              “It feels good to be home.” Hannibal said, and that was all. 

              “Oh, no.  You don’t get to keep secrets, now.  Finish that thought.” Will said, continuing to stroke his fingers over Hannibal’s cheek.  A tiny smile pricked at the corner of Hannibal’s lips.

              “I am unused to being so candid.” he said.  Will snorted.

              “Well get used to it.”

              Hannibal’s eyes fell to the floor, and that was when Will noticed for the _first time_ , that Hannibal’s gaze spent a _lot_ of time looking downwards.  Like an omega.  It was _there_ , right in front of him; as clear as day and hidden in plain sight.

              He felt Hannibal hesitate once more, and he slid his hand to the back of his head and tightened his fingers in his hair.

              “Tell me, right now.”

              It was a command.

              He could smell Hannibal’s pleasure and desire to obey.

              He raised his eyes to lock onto Will’s.

              “I want to hunt.”

              Will felt a surge of mixed emotions well up within himself, the most prominent of which was _excitement_.  Memories of the cliff flooded back to him.  It drowned out the rest of what he was feeling.

              “Yes.” he said.

              He felt Hannibal’s pulse race faster. 

              “For dinner, tonight?” he asked.  Will’s saliva was suddenly thick as he tried to swallow, his nostrils flaring from a swell of pleasant emotions.  Hannibal was asking permission. 

              Will had no desire to deny him.

              “Yes.” he said again, and could no longer keep the distance between them.  He pushed his lips against Hannibal’s, and his mouth opened, allowing Will to take him, to taste him, to _have_ him.  He took, dragging his tongue over his lips, bringing his flavor into his mouth, breathing him in.  Will pulled away slowly and gave Hannibal a small smile.

              “I might have the instinct of a killer,” he said softly, “but you have the experience.  In this, you are the master.  Teach me to hunt.”

              Hannibal’s near instant arousal slammed into Will’s brain, and their hunting expedition was delayed by a few hours as they made love on the floor, beside the harpsichord, and then had to clean themselves up and get dressed again.

              Will was still glowing as he got behind the wheel of the Cadillac, the pink in his cheeks more vibrant than he’d ever remembered feeling.

              “Where to?” he asked.  “Where do you hunt people?”

              Hannibal’s grin was about as wide as Will’s felt.

              “Why, the shopping mall, of course.”

              Will couldn’t quite keep the giddy expression from his face as he pulled down the driveway.

              “Have I told you how much I like your scar?” Hannibal purred as he drove, holding Will’s free hand between his fingers up to his lips, planting kisses along the back of his hand.

              “You have to be more specific.” Will teased.

              “The one on your gorgeous face.” Hannibal said.  “It shows just a hint of who you are, on the outside, for the world to see.”

              Will wasn’t sure if it was Hannibal’s delight or his own that made his smile spread wider.  He felt it tug at the scar on his cheek, felt that side not lift as high.

              “I consider it a gift from you, you know.” He said.  Hannibal purred, and kissed the back of his hand. 

              “Consider it mine, then.” he said.

 

              “This one?” Will asked, holding up yet another tie to his neck.  Hannibal’s face was as unreadable and impassive as ever.  He tilted his head to the side and regarded the tie for a moment, then shook his head.

              “You don’t enjoy it.” Hannibal said.

              “Hannibal, I hate _all_ ties.  Just pick out one _you_ like; I’m not going to like any of them.”

              A mother walked by them, holding a five-year-old by the hand, trailing a slightly older child behind him, whose attention was buried in a video game.  He bumped into Hannibal’s leg.

              “Timothy, watch where you’re going.  I’m sorry, sir.” the mother said, guiding the child away from Hannibal.  He gave a tight smile back.

              He turned to find Will tense beside him.

              “What?”

              Will took a moment to gather his thoughts.

              “I don’t want to hurt any children.”

              Hannibal cocked his head to the side and studied him for a moment.

              “I didn’t imagine you would.”

              Will gave a nervous swallow and put the tie down, his hand shaking.  Hannibal stood beside him and took it, holding it between his warm palms, steadying him.

              “This is very different from the Dragon.” Will said.  “He was a murderer, he slaughtered entire families, he…he…”

              “He deserved to die.” Hannibal finished for him, his voice soft and low, so that no one else would hear their conversation.

              “Yes.” Will replied.  Hannibal lifted an arm and pulled Will to him, holding him tightly.  An elderly couple walked by and gave them an adoring look, no doubt thinking Will was the omega in the relationship, the way he was curled into Hannibal’s chest.

              Hannibal waited for them to pass out of hearing range before speaking again.

              “We will not kill anyone until you approve.” Hannibal said.

              “Hannibal, that could be a long…”

              “It won’t.  You will approve.” he said.  Will smelled the pleasure coming from Hannibal’s skin, at whatever thought he’d just had.  Will stood up and turned his face away, trying to gather his thoughts.

              They walked slowly up and down the mall, holding hands, meandering through the shops, glancing at items through the windows.  Hannibal stopped at a jewelry store to look at watches, holding Will’s wrist over the glass counter, trying to decide which one would look best on him for dinner parties.

              “How about this…”

              “No, no diamonds, Hannibal.  I’ll admit I could use a nice watch but _please_.”

              Hannibal gave him an annoyed look, but passed over the diamond-encrusted watches, moving over to the simpler, plain gold ones. 

              Just then, the screeching sound of a toddler crying pierced the air.  Everyone in the jewelry shop turned to see a little girl in a stroller, brown face balled up in tears, and a purple Italian ice fallen to the carpet, just out of reach of her stubby baby fingers.

              Her omega father was trying to clean it up, pulling wipes from his diaper bag, his face clearly embarrassed.  He stood, purple dripping from his fingers, and walked towards the jewelry counter. 

              “Excuse me.” the salesman who had been helping them said, rushing into the back.  He hurried out with some napkins, trying to help the man clean his hands.  The child continued screaming.

              The manager of the store marched over to the scene, her face pointed and strict.  She spoke some harsh words to the salesman and he backed away, leaving a stack of sticky napkins on the counter, hurrying over to continue helping Hannibal and Will.

              “We will have to ask you to leave, sir.” the manager said to the distraught father.  “We have a strict no-child policy.”

              “She didn’t mean it, it was an accident…we were just trying to shop for a gift for my mother…” he stammered, and Will realized from his flustered demeanor just how _young_ he was.  Much younger than Will.  The toddler screamed louder.

              “If you do not leave, I will call security to escort you out.  The child is disturbing our customers.” she said, her eyes flicking over to Hannibal and Will, who were obviously from Money, and had the potential to spend a large sum.

              “I, yes, we’re going.  I’m so sorry.” the father said, pushing the stroller out along with the screaming child, half the melted mess on the carpet, half all over the counter.

              Hannibal didn’t even need to turn to face Will; the dark smile spread over his face the moment he smelled Will’s anger.

              “Yes.” Will said.  “Her.”

             

              They decided to return home to prepare and wait for closing time at the jewelry store.  After they’d gotten home Hannibal had tried to hide it, but Will smelled his distress.

              “What’s wrong?” Will asked, and he watched Hannibal stiffen. 

              “Not used to someone knowing you on the inside, are you?” Will teased.

              Hannibal gave him a tight smile, but had no witty retort, which only furthered Will’s belief that something was wrong.  Will took stock of him then, running his eyes over his body, and noticed that he was standing ever-so-slightly hunched.

              “Your wound is hurting.” Will said.

              “Only superficially.” Hannibal reassured him, but Will watched him closely as he walked towards the sitting room, miniscule winces and cheek-twitches giving away the truth.

              Will was at his side in an instant, and for once, Hannibal didn’t protest as he helped him sit on the couch.

              “I may have strained myself a bit.” he said.  Will didn’t need to think twice about his next decision.

              “You’re not hunting.  You’re staying home.”

              Hannibal stiffened, and Will could smell the argument on his skin before he even opened his mouth.

              “I haven’t had a proper meal in _three years_ , Will.”

              Will sat down beside him, lifting his palm gently into his hand.

              “I didn’t say _we_ weren’t hunting.” he said, almost disbelieving the words that came from his mouth; that he, a man who a month ago had been an FBI agent, was saying these words.  “I said _you_ are staying home.  You’re in no condition for a physical altercation, should one arise.”

              “We’ll be careful, we’ll…”  
              “I said no.”

              Will lifted his eyes to lock onto Hannibal’s gaze, and he saw the challenge there.  Saw the beast that lived beneath the skin raise its hackles and bare its teeth.

              “You wanted an Alpha.  You need meat.  I will provide for you.”

              The battle between Hannibal’s two instincts; killer and omega, raged loud and fierce.  Though Will saw only the barest of twitches on his face, he could see the turmoil in his eyes, he could smell the conflicted emotions rise from his pores.

              Will raised his fingers to touch the side of Hannibal’s face, and he was almost surprised when he _didn’t_ flash his face to the side and snap his fingers with his teeth.

              Their eyes remained locked.

              “I promise we will hunt together.” he said.  “You will kill again.  But you’re smart.  Don’t let desperation override the intelligent choice.  You’re injured.  You have to heal.  There will be time for hunting in the future, my love.”

              When Hannibal did snap his head, it was forward, to press a fervent, desperate kiss to Will’s lips.  He shook with emotion, crushing Will’s body to him, his breath shaky, his hands tightening in the curls of Will’s hair.

              He pulled back and rested their foreheads together.

              “Bring me dinner, Will.” he whispered, and Will could smell his pleasure at saying that, along with his disappointment at not being able to hunt himself.

              At the idea that he was going to hunt, for the first time, to kill on _purpose_ , for the first time, excitement started to rise in Will’s stomach.

              “Believe me, you will still be very much a part of this.” he said.  “Tell me what to do.”

 

              Will waited outside the employee entrance of the jewelry store just before closing time.  He had guessed that the reason Hannibal owned some non-descript, middle-class looking cars was exactly for this purpose; and he sat in a four-year-old Toyota, silver colored,  the kind of vehicle no one would ever remember.

              He watched as the group of employees left, the manager turned to lock the door, and gave it a firm tug before heading to her car.  He followed her out of the parking lot, onto the main road where there was plenty of traffic and he was sure he wouldn’t be seen.  She didn’t live far, pulling into the driveway on a normal suburban street.  It was already lined with cars, so Will parked across the street, where he could easily see into her front windows while remaining inconspicuous.

              There was a second car in the driveway, which meant there was at least one other person who lived with her.  That possibly complicated things; it meant Will would either have to kill two people, or somehow get her alone.  He found himself imagining her poor partner, trapped in a miserable marriage, suddenly liberated from the oppression that was their obnoxious wife.  Or perhaps they were as nasty as she was; in which case living without her was a just punishment.

              Will waited until it was dark and there was no one outside along the street.  He popped the trunk so it would be easy to open later and got out of the car.  Hammer in hand, he walked across the street and around the house, memorizing where the automatic outdoor lights were so he could avoid them later, when he was carrying her unconscious form.  He opened the gate to the back yard and walked across the grass, watching her as she drank wine and yapped away on her phone, sitting at the dining room table, eating her dinner with her free hand as she talked.

              He spotted a man sitting on the couch in the living room, eating his plate of dinner in front of the TV.  Will wondered for a moment whether he was a nice person.  Then he realized he didn’t particularly care.

              He turned his attention back to his prey, keeping himself hidden behind the trunk of a large tree in the back yard.  He was dressed in dark colors, clothes that would be disposed of once this was over, including his shoes, which had already left footprints all over the yard.

              She got up from the table and started to clean, all while still on the phone.  Several times she took it away from her face to shout something at the man on the couch, who didn’t move in response.  Finally, she hung up, and Will watched her pull out the trash bag and tie it.  He tensed, wondering if this would be his opportunity.

              It was.  The back door slammed behind her as she walked across the yard towards a shed, only a few feet from Will.  In flashes he remembered the first time he’d hunted; Freddie Lounds in his barn.  He remembered all the mistakes he had made, each one caused by his own hesitation, which resulted ultimately in her _living_.

              And also making a lot of noise.

              He would not make those mistakes again.

              Will stepped silently out from the darkness as she closed the shed door and headed back towards the house.  He saw her face much more clearly now, and remembered it scolding the poor father who was only trying to care for his baby.  Rage and hatred surged through him, but he kept his focus, pouring the energy from his emotions into the swing.  The hammer cracked against the side of her skull, hitting her near her temple, but not quite dead-on. 

              A small squeak escaped her and she stumbled.  Angry that she dared defy him, Will bared his teeth, careful to keep his snarl silent, and swung again.  She crumpled to the ground.

              He felt _satisfied_.  He felt _good_.

              He shoved the hammer into the waist of his jeans and hoisted her limp form over his shoulders.  He moved quickly, slinking through the gate that he’d left unlatched for himself, skirting the area where the automatic lights came on.  He paused by a stand of shrubs on the front lawn to make sure the street was clear and rushed across it, dumping her unceremoniously into the trunk.  He slammed it shut and was very, very careful to obey the speed limit as he drove away, exactly as Hannibal had reminded him.

             

              Hannibal was waiting for him in their garage.  The expectation on his face was akin to a child on their birthday, hoping that perhaps _this_ would be the present they’d been waiting for. 

              Will rose to his feet and slammed the door.  Their eyes locked.

              “Well?” Hannibal asked.

              Will let the dark smile rise to his face.

              “Dinner is in the trunk, my love.”

              Hannibal rushed forward and swept Will into his arms, crushing kiss after kiss after kiss to his lips.  His hands wandered up Will’s arms, over his neck, through his hair.

              The woman in the trunk came to and started to scream and pound on it.  Will’s heart raced as he let go of the adrenaline he’d been holding back.  Hannibal parted their lips and gazed into Will’s eyes, the scent of his adoration blooming up into Will’s nose, making him purr.

              “Did you enjoy the hunt?” Hannibal asked, and the woman stopped her screaming to try to listen.

              “Yes, more than I thought I would.”

              Hannibal gave him the _cutest_ smile, and brushed his fingers along Will’s cheek.

              “Let us prepare the meat, then.” he said, his voice almost _cooing_.

              They switched sides and Hannibal drove, leading Will along dark and back roads into the country, until they reached an old, dilapidated barn.

              “How many of these places do you own?” Will asked.

              “That haven’t been compromised?” Hannibal said, standing up and walking towards the trunk.  “Five.”

              Will looked at him over the roof of the car, and whatever his expression was, it made Hannibal smile with pride.

              “She’s going to taste acidic, because she came to.” he said.

              “My apologies; I’m still new at this.” Will said.

              “No reason to apologize, Will.  It happens sometimes.”

              Will felt the blood rush to his cheeks at Hannibal’s praise.  He most certainly did _not_ feel like the Alpha in this moment; no; they were much closer to being equals.  Hannibal was his senior in all things murder, and probably many other aspects of life.  Will had a lot to learn from him.

              “Will.” Hannibal said.  He looked up and saw Hannibal holding the hammer out to him.  He walked over and took it, their fingers brushing as they overlapped on the handle.

              “I’ll release the prey, and you hunt.” he said.  “You can make a mess, here.”

              Will’s heart started to race; not from fear, but from _excitement_.  He felt his cheeks turn pink.  He looked down at his weapon, turning it in his hand, feeling the weight of it, remembering the crack it had made against her skull.

              He walked back to the trunk and waited as Hannibal reached down towards the release.

              “Are you ready?” he asked. 

              Will’s eyes met his in the darkness.

              “I’ve been waiting for this my entire life.”

              Hannibal’s grin was wicked and proud.  He pulled the release.

              The trunk popped open, and immediately she flew out, landing on her feet, preparing to run.  Will swung, the weight of the hammer coming down against her skull.  He heard the crack as he felt the crunch, and the sound sent a delicious wave of _power_ through him.  He swung again and she collapsed, her body lying in the dirt, still breathing.  He swung again, and again, blood oozing from her ears, her eyes, her nose, as the soft indent he was making grew.  Her skin ruptured, blood pouring from the wound as her body stilled. 

              Will didn’t want to stop; and so he didn’t, continuing to swing as the blood splattered across his face, his shirt, the grass, the car.  Finally, when half her face was pulverized, he stopped, letting the dripping hammer fall to the ground.

              Hannibal wordlessly walked over and crouched down on the other side of the body.  Will raised his eyes to look into his, and in them, he saw himself.  Predatory and dark, he heard his breath rushing from between his teeth.

              “How do you feel, Will?”

              It greatly annoyed him that Hannibal should have to ask.  They should be bonded.  He should just _know_.

              “Powerful.  Strong.  Satisfied.”

              None of the words did it justice.

              “Is it because she deserved to die?” Hannibal asked.  Will’s eyes flashed with anger as he glanced down at the ugly creature that lay dead in the dirt.

              “No.” he breathed, a drop of her blood falling into his mouth.  He instinctually darted his tongue out to catch it, and he saw Hannibal inhale at the sight.  Will grinned flirtatiously at him.  “It’s because she didn’t deserve to live.”

              The scent of Hannibal’s pleasure wafted to him across the breeze.  The power from his kill rose in Will’s blood and drove him forward.  He tackled Hannibal, pushing his back into the ground, growling with lust as he kissed his mouth, over and over, letting him lick the blood from his lips.

              “Will…the meat…”  
              “Will keep until I fuck you.” Will growled, and under him, Hannibal whined.  Will’s hands darted down to Hannibal’s fly, yanking it open, the scent of him on top of the kill driving Will into a hurried madness.  He tugged Hannibal’s slacks down to his ankles, pulling his own cock out of his zipper as Hannibal lay prone before him, spreading his legs even as his ankles were confined by his pants.

              Will scented his slick and saw his erection, harder than Will’s.  His hand moved down to clasp it, Hannibal’s quick inhale echoing in the chilly night air.

              “Mine.” Will said, and he pushed up into him without preamble.  Hannibal keened, his fingers reaching up to clasp into Will’s shirt, his chin pointing to the sky as he threw his head back.  Will thrust, hard and fast, thinking of his hunt, thinking of his kill.

              He put one palm on the ground beside Hannibal’s head and pounded into him while he stroked Hannibal with his other hand.  Hannibal’s hands flew up to Will’s shoulders, pulling their bodies close, his whines of pleasure driving into Will’s skull, down his spine,  to his cock.  He felt his knot form faster than it ever had before, swelling at the base, the intensity of his emotions driving him into his omega.  He leaned down and scented Hannibal, breathing him in, running his tongue over his neck.

              Hannibal struggled to keep his eyes open, his hands clutching at Will’s shoulders.

              “You are so beautiful, covered in the blood of your kill, in the moonlight…” Hannibal managed.  Will crushed their lips together and felt his knot grow, pushing against Hannibal’s tight ring of muscle.         

              “You have awakened me in every way.” Will managed.  “I’m yours, Hannibal.”

              His hands grabbed Hannibal’s shoulders and he pushed.  They both cried out from the tight fit, Hannibal wincing as Will squeezed his eyes shut.  Then Hannibal’s body pulled him in, sucking him in deep, sealing around him tightly.

              Will cried with pleasure, his face sinking to bury into Hannibal’s neck.  Hannibal’s hands clutched at him, pulling on his ass, trying to get him deeper. 

              “Alpha!” he cried, his cum spreading across his shirt, soaking into it as he convulsed with pleasure.  “Take me, own me…”  
              Hearing Hannibal say such dirty things sent flames through Will’s nerves.  His orgasm rocketed through his body, pulses spreading out from his balls, up his cock, and through his spine.  He yanked back, hard, dragging Hannibal’s body back as his cock was tightly sealed in.  The sensation made them both groan, and he did it again, several times, making it very, very plain that they were trapped like this, in this most intimate of positions.

              Will pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along Hannibal’s neck, and Hannibal licked long stripes over his throat, drinking in the blood and his scent.  They exchanged soft purrs and deep sighs, until Will tensed and came again with a cry, burying his mouth in Hannibal’s skin.

              “Yes…” Hannibal managed to say, Will’s hips trying to drive him in deeper, trying to somehow be _more_ connected than they already were.  Will scraped his teeth over the skin of Hannibal’s neck, tears streaming from his eyes at the _distance_ between them. 

              “Mine, mate.” he cried, orgasming a third time, his every muscle tense as his fingers clutched Hannibal’s shoulders. 

              Hannibal’s fingers reached up to comb gently through his hair.  

              “Soon.” he said.  “A few weeks, and you can have me properly.”

              Will sobbed, and Hannibal held him tightly, wrapping his arms behind his back.  His knot, finally satisfied, softened enough that he could have pulled out, but he remained until he grew so soft it was uncomfortable.  He slid out of Hannibal, the mess pouring out of him to make a puddle on the ground.  They still held each other tightly for a long moment, until a chilly night breeze came and made Will shiver.

              They rose, pulling their pants back on, sticky and messy.  Will turned and looked at the body.  It no longer made him feel anything.  It was just a lump of meat.

              “Carry it in for me?” Hannibal asked, wincing.  Will tried to feel guilt, but before it got very far, he saw Hannibal’s expression admonish it, and he chased it away.  He leaned down and threw the meat over his shoulders, the blood draining out as he followed Hannibal up to the barn, where he sat, exhausted, and watched Hannibal work like the skilled butcher he was, preparing meals for them for the next month or so.


	6. Chapter 6

For the third time, Will found himself in a courtroom because of the actions of Hannibal Lecter.  The first time, he’d been defending himself while Hannibal framed him for murder, and had lost (though the judge and bailiff had paid a higher price).  The second time, he’d been fighting to get Hannibal declared insane, to save him from the death penalty, and had won. 

              Now he was fighting for Hannibal’s freedom.

              This time, they were truly on the same team.  If the first court case, Hannibal had gotten what he’d wanted, and the second time, Will had gotten what he wanted, well.  It stood to reason that together, the odds were stacked highly in their favor.

              They got ready for court together, dressing in Hannibal’s… in _their_ bedroom, Hannibal pinning Will’s cufflinks for him, tying his tie, fixing his curls.

              “I’m fine, love.”

              “It will help if they see even a tenth of your beauty.” he replied, straightening Will’s collar once more. 

              “Have you rehearsed the lines?” Hannibal asked.

              “Yes, I have it all practiced.”

              “Left eyebrow raised means no, right eyebrow raised means yes.”

              Will nodded. 

              “Any past secrets I need to know that might come up?  Now’s the time.” Will said half-teasingly, half-serious.

              Hannibal’s eyes gazed into his and as always, Will got lost in the depth of them.

              “There is no time for that.” he said.  “It is also unnecessary.  A bond is strongly emotional, less so clearly psychic.  You wouldn’t be expected to know complicated details about my past.”

              Will’s mouth stayed in a tight, thin line.

              Hannibal’s hands came up to clasp his shoulders firmly.

              “We will succeed at this.  Even separated, what we share is so profound I am certain we will convince a gaggle of twelve jurors.”

              “We’ll never fool Jack…”

              “We need not worry about Uncle Jack.  We need only to convince twelve strangers.  If necessary, there are many means of influence at our disposal.”

              Will gave Hannibal a strong expression.

              “We’re not threatening to eat their families, Hannibal.”

              He straightened his cuff one last time.

              “That only removes one of my multiple back up plans.”

              Will sighed.

              “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it?”

              “Everything is a game.  I have yet to lose.”

              Will’s hand flew out to clasp Hannibal’s chin very tightly.

              “The stakes are higher than you are used to.”

              Hannibal gave him a warm, almost condescending smile.

              “No.  I have already won the most precarious of games.  I have you.”

              Will’s face shook with emotion as he tried to argue, and knew he couldn’t.

              “You do.” he said softly, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on Hannibal’s lips.  “Now let us go convince the world of that.”

 

              The courtroom was packed, mostly with reporters.  Will spotted Freddie Lounds sitting in the front row and sighed inwardly.  Of course, the potential release of the most famous serial killer Maryland had ever known would attract attention.  Will’s nerves were already getting jittery.  Beside him, he smelled Hannibal release a calming mixture of hormones.  He inhaled deeply, wondering at how all the betas didn’t smell it when it was so _strong_ to him. 

              They walked through the gate and sat beside their lawyer.  He glanced over at the plaintiff’s table and saw Jack, along with Kade Purnell, his superior.  He swallowed nervously.  The FBI was calling in the big guns for this one.

              “All rise.”

              Everyone rose as the judge walked into the room.  Immediately, Will felt a sense of relief, and it took him a long moment to realize why.  The judge began by reading off some formalities, then declared everyone may sit, and _then_ Will realized what it was he scented.  The judge was an omega. 

              He had no idea if the calming effect he felt was legitimate, or just his body’s reaction to the scent.  Nevertheless, he was grateful for it, and he let the calmness settle over him.

              “The State of Maryland v. Hannibal Lecter-Graham and Will Graham.” the judge began.  “This hearing is to determine the matter of custody over Dr. Hannibal Lecter-Graham.  On this there will be three points discussed: Whether Dr. Lecter-Graham’s crimes were the result of insanity caused by being unbonded at an old age; whether the bond claimed by Will Graham over him is genuine, and if these first two are determined to be true, whether the bond has cured Dr. Lecter-Graham of his mental illness, and has therefore made him fit to return to society under the custody of Will Graham.”

              Will caught the slightest twitch in Hannibal’s jaw when the judge used the phrase “old age.”  He reached out his hand and placed it gently on his thigh.  He relaxed by the smallest of margins.

              “Who is representing the plaintiffs?” the judge asked.

              “Martin Garner, DA of Baltimore.” the lawyer said, standing.  The judge nodded.

              “And representing the defendants?”

              “Harold Thorton, Attorney At Law.” their lawyer said, standing up.  He spoke with confidence.  Will glanced at Hannibal, who nodded with approval.  No doubt this was one of the best lawyers in the country, if Hannibal had chosen him.

              “We will begin opening arguments.”

              Those went as expected.  The DA stated that he intended to prove there was no legitimacy to Will’s bond-claim over Hannibal, therefore Will had no right to custody over him, and furthermore, Hannibal was then not cured of his insanity and belonged in the BSHCI.

              Then their lawyer went, and his speech was much more emphatic and moving.

              “Omegan rights.” he said, standing up and walking towards the jury, to stand halfway between them and the judge.  Will could smell the judge’s interest.  He sat up straighter in his chair.  Oh, their lawyer knew how to play his cards. 

              “Omegan rights have been the subject of social debate since the sixties, since many greatly respected minds fought for the right of omegas to have a legal voice.  To have the right to determine their own lives, their own futures.  To have the right to choose their own mates.  Since that time, the matter of Alphan legal ownership of omegas has been in and out of the ballots, voted upon time and again, and _every_ time, omegas _always_ vote, nearly unanimously, for the right to give ownership of themselves to their chosen Alphas.”

              He paused for dramatic effect, letting that sink in.  He’d done nothing more than give a short rehash of history, stated facts that everyone knew, but probably rarely thought about. 

              “The bond between an Alpha-omega pairing is profound.  We all know it; yet unless you’ve experienced it yourself, it is impossible to comprehend.”

              Will saw complete approval on the judge’s face, and about half the faces on the jury.  This was already going well.  He started to hope that they might actually pull this off.

              “Yet the medical facts alone speak as a testament to this.  When one in the pair dies, so does the other.  They cannot survive separation.  When one falls ill, they both fall ill.  If they heal, they heal together.  We all _know_ these things, but unless you’ve experienced it yourself, you cannot truly _understand_.  That is why, each time well-meaning betas try to “liberate” omegas from their ownership to Alphas, their response is a resounding, unanimous, _no.”_

              Will saw several of the jurors nodding in agreement.  He couldn’t scent them from this far away, but he was guessing they were a mix of all three genders, considering the topic of the case.

              “For the FBI, or _anyone_ , to try to claim that they know _better_ than Dr. Lecter-Graham about _his_ bond is a grave injustice, the exact type of oppression that omegas have been fighting against for generations.  Omegas have the _right_ to give themselves, to whatever Alpha _they_ choose.  This right is protected by the federal government and the state of Maryland.  Hannibal’s simple declaration on their bond-form is enough, and should be sufficient, to declare him as belonging to Will Graham.  To question otherwise is to take a step back over a hundred years in civil rights.”

              The lawyer went on, but Will’s attention turned to the jury.  He saw nearly all of their faces and demeanors change in agreement.  He started to actually relax.  This was possible.  This was _possible_.

              After closing statements, the DA rose and called his first witness.

              “The prosecution calls James Price.”

              Will stiffened, and forced himself not to jerk his head around in surprise.  He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him that they would call his old co-workers; anyone who had known Hannibal _or_ Will before their ‘bond’ was fair game.

              “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

              Jimmy’s eyes darted quickly to Hannibal, then lingered a bit longer on Will, then flicked back to the bailiff who had asked him the question.

              “I do.” he said.

              Will could smell his insincerity from his seat across the room.

              Which meant so could the awakened in the jury, he realized.  He tried to swallow down his nerves.  This was not going to go well no matter _what_ Jimmy said.

              Hannibal remained unflustered.

              The DA rose and walked towards Jimmy, who looked even paler than usual.

              “Mr. Price, please state for the record your occupation.”

              He leaned forward, his eyes darting once again to Hannibal, before quickly flicking back to the DA.

              “I am a crime scene scientist in the Behavioral Science Unit for the FBI Maryland division.” he stated. 

              The DA nodded.

              “And in the course of your work, have you had the chance to become acquainted with either of the defendants?”

              “I have.” he said, his voice shaky.  Hannibal flicked a nonexistent fleck of lint off of his perfectly tailored pants.  Jimmy twitched in response.

              “How have you come to know the defendants?”

              “Well, Will was consulting with the FBI until about a month ago.  We worked on many cases together.”

              “And what is your opinion of him?”

              “He’s a very good profiler.  He’s put a lot of terrible people behind bars.  I respect him.”

              The DA paused, giving Jimmy a hard look, and Will smelled the _tiniest_ bit of delight from Hannibal.  No doubt that was not the response the DA had been expecting.

              “So you know him rather well.”

              “Yes.”

              “Well enough to notice, say, a change in his demeanor, should he become bonded.”

              Jimmy paused for a moment, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.  Will felt bad for him.  He liked him; he always had (except for that first time they met and Will had shut the door in his face).  He had nothing against him.  But if he went against Hannibal, well.  Will would choose Hannibal.

              “I…um, I suppose, though I haven’t seen Will since the, uh…incident.”

              “You seem nervous, Jimmy.” the DA said, turning to glare at Hannibal, whose face was his typical serene, passive stone.

              “I’ve just…never testified concerning my friends, before.  It’s awkward.”

              Hannibal shifted his stance ever so slightly, and Jimmy seemed to relax.

              “Friends?  Plural?  You still consider Hannibal Lecter to be your friend, even after knowing about all the crimes he’s committed?”

              “Well, not exactly…”

              “Even after knowing it was he who killed Beverly Katz?”

              Will watched Jimmy’s face harden.  His entire body tensed and his eyes grew angry.

              “No.  Hannibal is no friend of mine.  I only meant Will.  I have nothing against Will.”

              Will could discern no visible reaction from Hannibal, and in that moment, he didn’t want to.  Beverly’s death still weighed on him.  He found himself retreating from Hannibal, just for a moment. 

              “So you believe Hannibal is a killer.”

              “The evidence makes that clear.” Jimmy said firmly. 

              “Do you believe he belongs in society?”

              “Objection!” their lawyer cried, standing up.  “Witness is not qualified to answer that question.”

              “Sustained.” the judge said.  Jimmy looked completely relieved.

              “Okay, then.  In your personal opinion, would you want Hannibal Lecter, who killed your co-worker Beverly, free in the world, or locked up, away from society?”

              Poor Jimmy looked absolutely torn.  Will felt very sorry for him, then.  Really, he had no good options.  He could say the truth; which was that yes, he wanted Hannibal locked up forever; but if Hannibal won his case, Jimmy would be first on his menu.  Or he could say that no, he believed Hannibal should be free, which would keep him on his good side…but then would be aiding him in becoming free.

              “I…I don’t know.  I guess, if he’s cured, if his bond has made him sane again, and he wouldn’t kill anymore, then sure, why shouldn’t he be free.”

              Will smelled the spark of delight from Hannibal as Jimmy expertly dodged the question.  Will huffed in annoyance.  Jimmy didn’t deserve this.

              The DA did not look pleased.

              “Thank you, no further questions.” he said, sitting down.

              Their own lawyer rose.

              “Mr. Price.” he began.  “You are a bonded Alpha yourself, yes?”

              Jimmy nodded.

              “Yes.”

              “And who is your omega?”

              “Brian Zeller-Price.” Jimmy said, a flicker of fondness crossing his face, as his eyes darted out into the courtroom to where Brian was sitting.

              “And how would it make you feel to have that bond questioned, in a court of law?”

              “Objection! Relevance.” the DA said.  The judge glared at him.

              “Overruled.  You may answer the question.” he said to Jimmy.  Jimmy swallowed nervously.

              “It would feel…invasive.  Unfair.” he said.  Mr. Thorton nodded. 

              “And why is that?”

              “Because…well, you tell someone you’re in love, and then they say ‘no, you’re not’.  Who has the right to tell me who I’m in love with, or to whom I am bonded?”

              Mr. Thorton tried his best to keep his smile cordial, without turning smug.

              “Thank you, Mr. Price.  No further questions.”

              Will glanced over at the DA and saw his distress.  Clearly, whatever line of questioning he’d had for Jimmy hadn’t gone the way he’d planned.  Jimmy rose and left, glancing once more at Will and Hannibal on his way out, trying to decipher, no doubt, whether he’d escaped being put on their list of enemies.

              Next the DA called Dr. Carmen, the head of the medical department at the BSHCI.  He testified that in the three years of his incarceration, he’d never once observed Hannibal go through a heat.

              “How can an awakened omega not experience heats, doctor?” the DA asked.

              “Well, normally that would be due to a physical ailment that puts their body under great distress, such as a serious illness or malnourishment.”

              The DA nodded, glancing over at the jury, trying to read them.  It took until then for Will to realize he was a beta; which made him feel strangely indignant.  He was delving into subjects that he had no business delving into.

              “Was that the case with Dr. Lecter?”

              Will growled, low-pitched but loudly enough for everyone in the courtroom to hear, and rose from his seat so fast his chair scraped against the floor.  The DA snapped his head towards him in surprise, to see Will’s teeth bared in threat.

              “Councelor, please control your client.” he managed to say to Mr. Thorton, his voice wavering.

              “Perhaps if you would refer to my client’s mate by his respectful name, you wouldn’t offend him into such a reaction.” Mr. Thorton replied calmly, not getting up.  The DA turned his eyes up to sweep over the room, catching the disapproving looks of most of the onlookers.

              “I…”

              It took him a long moment to even realize his mistake.

              “My apologies.  Was that the case with Dr. Lecter- _Graham_.” he corrected, expertly hiding his nerves.  Will allowed the tenseness to leave his shoulders, and he sat back down.  He smelled Hannibal’s pride and approval at his display.  Will reached out his hand and placed it on Hannibal’s shoulder in a possessive manner, to emphasize his point to those in the courtroom.  Behind his eyes, Hannibal was practically _grinning_.

              He glanced at the jury and saw that he had the sympathy of all seven of the awakened, and three of the betas besides.  His performance did the trick.

              “I do not believe so, no.” the doctor said.  “Hannibal was not ill, nor malnourished while he was a patient at the Institute.” He sat with a haughty attitude, his hands folded over one knee as he crossed them, his chin lifted too high with his eyes looking down his nose.

              Will would have wanted to kill him even if he _wasn’t_ directly trying to throw his mate back into incarceration.

              “What is the reason for the lack of heats for Dr. Lecter-Graham, then?”

              Will’s fists clenched over his knees.  This was an _incredibly_ personal subject; they might as well be showing nude photos of Hannibal to the jury.  He was at least comforted somewhat by the uncomfortable looks on their faces.

              “Hannibal is diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder, more commonly known as psychopathy.  Due to this mental illness, he is incapable of feeling emotion, or perhaps feels some emotion on a very muted level.  Because of this, if he has heats, I’d expect them to be very mild; to the point of having no noticeable outward symptoms.”

              Will tensed behind Hannibal, both with rage at the doctor and a twinge of fear that what he was saying might be true.  Hannibal had not told him he didn’t experience heats; in fact, he’d been promising that he _did_ , and that one was just around the corner.

              Beside him, he saw Hannibal shift his weight, moving his left leg from over his right to switch them.  The motion moved his entire body slightly closer to Will, while leaving his outward demeanor uncracked.

              In the gesture, Will heard his reassurance.  He also heard _trust me_.

              Will let out a long breath and relaxed his muscles as best he could, trying to reply, _I do_.

              “If Hannibal doesn’t experience heats, how is it then, that he could be bonded?” the DA asked.  The doctor gave the slightest twitch of a shrug, almost as if it was too much effort for him to have to lift his shoulders in the full gesture.

              “I wouldn’t think it possible.” he said. 

              “So you don’t believe Will’s claim that Hannibal has bonded to him.”

              “I don’t, no.” the doctor said, shaking his head.  Will glanced at the jury.  He saw some of them growing angry, but others he saw contemplating the doctor’s statements.  There was no doubt that Hannibal was a psychopath; it was obvious from the crimes he’d committed.  It wasn’t a giant leap to believe that no emotions translated into no heats, which was an intensely emotional experience.

              “So, doctor, if Hannibal’s mental illness prevents him from experiencing heats, would it also prevent him from experiencing other usual emotions associated with being an omega?  Losing his mind over being unbonded, for example?”

              The doctor nodded.

              “Yes.  I don’t believe Hannibal’s psychosis is a result of his being unbonded.  Rather, I believe his being unbonded for so long is a result of his psychosis.  He is incapable of forming emotional bonds of any sort, including one with an Alpha, which is how he’s reached an almost unheard of age still unbonded.  In fact, I believe this is one of the reasons most of his victims seem to be Alphas.  Some may have attempted to bond with him, and his response was to kill them and eat them.  He views himself more as a dominant predator, than as any willing submissive.”

              Will’s heart was racing with rage.  It took all he had not to leap out of his seat and strangle the doctor right then; both of his instincts, Alpha to protect, and killer to destroy, screamed at him to _act_.

              Beside him, he felt Hannibal’s absolute coolness.

              _In due time_ , he knew he would say.  Revenge would be theirs.  Just not now.  The thought comforted him, and he relaxed back into his seat.

              “No further questions, your Honor.” the DA said.  Mr. Thorton rose, his face not giving anything away, though he clasped his hands behind his back, a gesture he had not done for Jimmy.

              “Doctor Carmen.” he began.  “How many patients have you had with Hannibal’s diagnosis, of Antisocial Personality Disorder?”

              The doctor sighed, as if this whole business annoyed him.  As if the freedom of Will’s mate did not rest upon his words.

              “Not many.  It is an uncommon disorder.”

              “How many exactly, doctor?”

              “Including Hannibal?  Three.” he said.  Their lawyer nodded.

              “And those other two, were they omegas?”

              “No, they were not.”

              Their lawyer paused, nodding, keeping his eyes towards the ground in mock thought.

              “Doctor, do you know how many omegas have been diagnosed as psychopaths, in the world, in all of the history of psychiatry?”

              The doctor shook his head.

              “I am not aware of that statistic.”

              “One.” their lawyer said, turning to face Hannibal.  “Hannibal is the only person ever to fit that description.”

              “He is a unique patient, yes.” the doctor conceded.

              The lawyer whirled around quickly.

              “Then how can you be _so_ certain that his mental disability affects his omegan emotions the way you state, by nearly erasing them?”

              The doctor shrugged.

              “He displayed no symptoms of heat in the three years under my care.  Not once did he have a fever, produce heat-scented pheromones, require or ask for physical relief…”

              “Did you test him directly for heat symptoms?  Were regular hormonal blood tests done?”

              The doctor opened his mouth, then closed it slowly, and furrowed his brow.

              “No.”

              “Then how can you be _certain_ he experience no heats?  You weren’t even testing for it.”

              The doctor faltered.

              “Usually, heats are very obvious…”

              “You said yourself that being under heavy duress can reduce, postpone, or eliminate heats, did you not?”

              The doctor started to fidget.  He suddenly looked much less bored.

              “Um, yes.”

              “And would you consider being incarcerated in a mental hospital ‘under duress’?”

              “We take excellent care of our patients…”

              “Even so, the simple fact of being incarcerated is a form of duress, is it not?”

              The doctor sighed, slumping his shoulders.

              “Yes.”

              “How many other omegas currently inhabit the Boston State Hospital for the Criminally Insane?” he asked.

              The doctor paused a moment, careful to think about his answer.

              “One.” he said.

              “And do they experience heats?”

              The doctor set his jaw.

              “No, but…”

              The lawyer looked up at the jury as if this made his entire case.

              “Thank you.  No more questions.”

 

              During the car ride home, Hannibal was practically jovial.

              “I’ll make of him steak tartare.  His bitterness will be perfect.  I’ll chop up fresh onions…”

              “Hannibal,” Will interrupted

              “…mix them with capers, ground black pepper, Worcestershire sauce…”

              “Hannibal.” Will said, a bit louder.

              “instead of serving him with rye I’ll use cucumbers, to add a bit of much-needed freshness…”

              “Hannibal!” Will shouted, daring to tear his eyes from the road to glare at his beloved.  “You cannot eat the doctor from the mental hospital!”

              Hannibal’s delight vanished and was replaced by his mask; an expression of stone covering barely-hidden, roiling anger.

              “I am aware of the intricacies of human social interaction, and the many reasons this places on us to not consume Dr. Carmen.” he snipped.  “I can still daydream.”

              Neither of them spoke for a long moment, Will _seething_ with anger, to the point that his nostrils were flaring as he breathed out, and he wasn’t even sure why.

              “You’re nervous about the tests we are to perform tomorrow.” Hannibal said, straightening a non-existent wrinkle in the cuff of his shirt.

              “Of course I am!  And it is _intensely frustrating_ that you are not!”

              He saw a flicker of sadness cross Hannibal’s eyes for the briefest of moments, caught only because he was slowing for a red light and could chance to look at him.

              “As well as you know me, it is not well enough.” he lamented.  “Even you, Will, are sometimes easily fooled by the face I present to the world.”

              The corners of Will’s mouth tugged downward in a hint of guilt.

              “So you are nervous.”

              “Of course I am.  My freedom depends upon it.”

              Beneath that statement, Will heard all Hannibal wasn’t saying, as well.

              “Regardless of how this turns out,” Will began, regretting that the light had turned green and he couldn’t look Hannibal in the eyes when he said it, “I will bond with you no matter what.  We will be together, regardless of other circumstances.”

              He glanced over and saw the twitch in Hannibal’s upper lip.

              “You are prepared to run?  To leave your life in Baltimore, in America, behind, to be with me?”

              He took a hand from the steering wheel and placed it firmly, soundly, over Hannibal’s.

              “I already have.” he said.  It was then he saw the slightest whisper of fluidity in Hannibal’s eyes.  “As far as I’m concerned, we’re mated, Hannibal.”

              Slowly, Hannibal turned his hand over so that his palm faced upward, a subtle and yet very clear gesture of vulnerability.  Will intertwined their fingers tightly, making it clear in his actions that his words were sincere.

 

              They sat in the waiting room of the psychiatrist’s office, Will trying his damnedest not to fidget, Hannibal glancing at the décor, no doubt making his own assessments about this professional and her qualifications. 

              She was requested by the prosecution to perform a series of tests intended to clearly show whether their bond was real or not.  Of course, any tests that would be _clear_ , such as poisoning one of them to see if the other died, were banned due to morality concerns; in fact, the judge had banned any test that put either of them in physical danger.  On top of that, since tests like these were highly controversial, there was very little research to verify the validity of any of them.  Their lawyer was still arguing with the court to bar the results entirely; but for now, they had to put up with this.

              “Okay, we’re ready for you.” an overly-enthusiastic young assistant said, his smile too wide for Will’s liking. 

              Will rose first, Hannibal a few seconds behind him, and he led, while Hannibal followed.  They were both on high alert; ready to be attuned to each other for the performance of their lifetimes.

              “You’ll be in here, Mr. Graham, and you’ll be in here, Dr. Lecter-Graham.” the assistant said, gesturing at doors to two separate rooms.

              Will leaned over and gave Hannibal a quick peck on the lips.  He glanced in his eyes for a moment and saw his _certainty_ there.

              Will walked into the indicated room.  There were two chairs and a table between them, much like an interrogation room.  Up in the corner was a security camera, its red light blinking impassively down at him.

              The door closed, and he waited.

              And waited.

              And waited.

              He struggled not to fidget.  He had to remain calm; as calm as if he were bonded to a psychopath. 

              Finally, after probably half an hour, the door opened and another assistant walked in.  She carried a tablet and walked over to the seat in front of Will.

              “Okay, Mr. Graham.  Tell me what Hannibal felt for the past half-hour.”

              He shrugged.

              “Nothing.” he said.

              She nodded and adjusted her glasses.

              “You felt nothing?”

              “No, that’s not what I said.” Will corrected, doing his best to keep the quip from his voice.  “I said _he_ felt _nothing_.  I very clearly feel that he is feeling nothing.”

              She frowned, and looked down at her tablet.

              “Is that not on your chart?” he said sarcastically.  She glanced up at him.

              “No need to be rude, Mr. Graham.”

              “There is plenty reason to be rude.” he replied.

 

              “And during this portion,” their lawyer said to the jury, pausing the video of a split screen, one half showing Will, the other half showing Hannibal, “I will ask the jury to make their own judgement about whether Will’s assessment of Hannibal’s emotions were correct.  Then let us now see what Hannibal’s response was…”

              He started the video again, this time with Will’s recording silent, and the sound from Hannibal’s playing.

              “And what is your Alpha feeling in this moment, Dr. Lecter-Graham?” the male assistant asked.

              “Agitated.” Hannibal said in the video, as he himself remained perfectly, icily calm; the perfect representation of feeling nothing.

              Beside him, Will gave a soft snort.  _Because he is always agitated_ , he could hear the rest of Hannibal’s unspoken sentence. 

              Being predictable wasn’t Will’s strong suit; but he had to admit, Hannibal had him pretty well pegged.

              Mr. Thorton paused the video again, and turned to the psychiatrist, who was sitting on the witness stand.

              “And, in your professional opinion, what is the conclusion you have drawn from this portion of the test?  Are Will and Hannibal bonded?”

              “It isn’t possible to tell.  They responded within the normal overlap range of two people who know each other very well, and a newly-bonded pair.”

              “So this part of the test revealed no clear, scientific information.”

              “No.” she replied.

              Mr. Thorton kept a straight face, though Will caught the flicker of a smug smile on the corner of Hannibal’s lips. 

              “Now let us watch the second portion of the test.”

              Will tensed, and he felt Hannibal’s hand immediately reach out and clasp his. 

             

              After the female assistant had left, Will was left alone again.  Other than bouncing his leg on a few occasions and folding his fingers over themselves a few times, he hardly moved.  He knew that in the other room, Hannibal was doing the same; remaining mostly still, fidgeting a little.  Their motions would reflect two identically different states of emotion; the calmness, radiating into them both from Hannibal, and the agitation, radiating into them both from Will.

              The door opened again, a powerful scent slammed into Will, erasing his thoughts.  His blood started to race even before his eyes had a chance to turn and look at who was entering the room.      The omega walked into the room and sat across from him. 

              Will rose, quickly, pushing his chair back so hard it fell over.  He walked to the far wall of the room and turned his shoulder to it, leaning on it for support.  The room grew brighter as his eyes dilated wide, the racing of his heart pounding blood up into his skull. 

              He’d never smelled an omega in heat since his awakening. 

              It was delicious.

              He wanted to vomit.

              The omega rose from his chair and walked carefully around the table towards Will.

              “Is something wrong, Mr. Graham?” he asked.  His voice was honey poured on Will’s ears.  It seared him and his hands flew up to cover them.  The honey poured through his veins and down to his cock, making it swell in his jeans.  He felt sick.

              “Go away.” he replied, his body trembling.  He felt, in an instant, like the Old Will Graham, desperately wanting something that he knew he _could not have_ , that call to murder, to kill, deep in his gut, that he’d fought against for so long.  So long.

              Until Hannibal made it right.

              The omega reached out to touch his arm and he whirled and growled at it.  It stank like rotten meat, then; it wasn’t even human to him; he saw immediately how Hannibal saw these things.  As animals.  He wanted to kill it.

              His entire body trembled as he struggled not to attack. 

              “I said go away!” he screamed, and his face must have been threatening enough, because despite whatever he was told to do, the omega backed up towards the door.

              With the distance, Will was able to get a few gasps of fresh air, and his mind came to him just enough.

              If they were doing this to him, then what had they sent to Hannibal’s room?

              “MINE!” he cried, charging towards the door.  The omega dodged out of the way just in time, no doubt thinking he’d been going for it.  Instead Will yanked the door open and rushed the few steps down the hall, barging into Hannibal’s room, where indeed, and Alpha in rut hovering behind Hannibal, his head leaning down to scent his neck.

              Will lunged.  The offender was thrown so hard his shoulders hit the opposite wall, and Will took advantage of his opening and got in two good punches before the Alpha raised up a knee into Will’s chest.  Will hunched over and wrapped his arms around the Alpha’s waist, dragging him to the ground with him.  They rolled and punched each other, both snarling, teeth bared, until three orderlies rushed into the room and tried to yank them apart.

              One was greeted by an elbow to the teeth; the second by Will’s hands firmly around his head, ready to snap his neck.

              “Will.” Hannibal said.

              The sound of his voice was a shining light that pierced through the haze.  Will’s head jerked up towards him and he froze in place.

              The third orderly had managed to get the other Alpha sedated.

              Will dropped the body in his hands and it scrambled away.  Will’s eyes burned into Hannibal’s, his mate still seated, perfectly unfazed, legs crossed. 

              “Protect.” Will said, his lungs still heaving for breath.  Hannibal tilted his head to the side so slightly no one else would notice.  Will saw Hannibal’s acknowledgment of his protection.  His acceptance of it.

              Will lowered his shoulders and rose to stand straight once again.

              Their lawyer was standing in the room now, furious.

              “The judge will hear about this.  The agreement was that neither of them would be put in danger of any physical harm.  This is highly disturbing.  We are finished here.”

             

              With that, the video ended.  Will glance over to see a unanimously disturbed jury.  He relaxed a little at that, and from the ordeal finally being over.  He never wanted to relive that…at least not while he was preventing himself from killing anything.

 

              Mr. Thorton walked smugly towards the psychiatrist again, trying to keep the smugness from his face.  After the ‘testing’ had been completed, the DA had tried to argue against submitting the video as evidence.  The judge had nearly laughed at that, since they had been the ones fighting to include it in the first place.

              “Now of course, the jury is encouraged to form their own opinions about what they observed in the video, as submitted as evidence.” he began.  “But they are not professionals of the mind; and so, doctor, I will ask how you interpret the results of these tests.”

              “It is clear that Will has strong Alphan instincts directed towards Dr. Lecter-Graham.” she said.  “However, due to Hannibal’s diagnosis of psychopathy, it is not possible to observe his reciprocation of these emotions, as would normally be seen in a bonded pair.”

              “Hmm.” Mr. Thorton said, pacing a few times before coming up with his next question.

              “So what you are saying, doctor, is that their bond is one-way?”

              She lifted one leg to cross it over her knee and smoothed her grey slacks.

              “I am not saying that.  I am saying that there may be a bond, or there may not be.  Due to Hannibal’s lack of all emotion, it is simply impossible to tell.”

              Mr. Thorton nodded.

              “So, in short, the results of the second test were also inconclusive.”

              She nodded firmly.        

              “Yes, that is correct.”

              Mr. Thorton nodded.

              “Okay, then.  Thank you, doctor.  No further questions.”

              The DA rose, his face pale.  Apparently ‘inconclusive’ was the best response he’d been able to convince the psychiatrist to give.

              “No questions, your Honor.”

              The judge nodded and told the doctor she was dismissed.  As she passed by Hannibal, however, Will caught the slightest tilt of his head, and knew he was imagining what recipe she would go well with.

 

              “Does the prosecution have another witness?” the judge asked.  The DA nodded.

              “We do, your Honor.  The prosecution calls Miss Freddie Lounds.”

              Will’s entire body tensed.  His fingers clutched the edge of the table until his knuckles were white, in an effort to otherwise appear to have no reaction.  He watched the bouncing mess of tight red curls make their way up the aisle of the courtroom to settle down on the witness seat.

              He swore he saw Hannibal actually lick his chops.

              “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” the bailiff asked her.

              Her eyes darted straight to Will’s face and burned right through his skull. 

              “I do.” she said.

              She sat.

              “Miss Lounds, what do you do for a living?” the DA began.

              “I’m a reporter.” she said, tilting her head back, barely touching her curls with one hand, in a gesture that made Will want to cut off her fingers.

              “Do you know the defendants?” he asked.  Again, she looked directly at both of them.

              “Yes.  Quite well, I might add.”

              Will felt Hannibal’s palm cover his hand.  He remained still.

              “How do you know them?”

              “Well.” she began.  “I first met them while I was doing a story about Abigail Hobbs.  Her father was a serial killer who ate his victims, just like Hannibal.”

              “Objection.” their lawyer called. 

              “Sustained.  Stick to just answering the question, Miss Lounds.”

              She smiled tightly at the judge and nodded.

              “And what was their association with the subject of your story, Abigail?”

              Freddie’s eyes looked out into the crowd, eager to sensationalize, thrilled that she had _such_ an audience.

              “That’s just it.  They had no association with her.  Other than that, for some reason, every time I went to visit her, they were there.”

              “Really.” the DA said, pacing.  “What did you see them doing, with Miss Hobbs?”

              Will nearly leapt from his seat at the insinuation, the intense wave of calming hormones from Hannibal just barely keeping him in place.  Hannibal squeezed his hand tighter.

              “Talking.  The three of them.  All the time.  As if they’d known each other their entire lives.”

              “Objection! Speculation.”

              “Sustained.  Stick to the facts, Miss Lounds.  Report only what you observed.”

              “My apologies, your Honor.” she said, entirely insincerely.

              “What were they talking about?”

              She shrugged.

              “I couldn’t hear.”

              The lawyer nodded, continuing his pacing, folding his arms behind his back.  He walked over to his table and pulled a copy of Tattle Crime from his briefcase.  The cover was curled back, open to a particular page, with several sections highlighted.  He handed it to Freddie.

              “Did you write this article, Miss Lounds?”

              “Yes.” she said, her voice full of as much pride as her smile.

              “When did you write it?”

              She glanced at the date.

              “Just after Abigail was murdered by Hannibal.”

              “Objection!” Thorton cried.

              “Your Honor, it is proven fact that Hannibal Lecter murdered Abigail Hobbs.”

              The judge nodded solemnly.

              “Overruled.” he said. 

              The DA looked like he’d just eaten a canary.

              Will’s eyes burned with murderous intent.  Freddie Lounds had just bumped herself up to the top of his list, above Bedelia Du Maurier.

              “Please read the highlighted sections.” the DA repeated.

              Freddie’s eyebrows knitted together in false concern as she opened her red-painted lips.

              “The death of young Abigail Hobbs appears to be a tragedy at first glance.  But how is it that a girl so young, with no parents, was able to disappear for so many months, only to show up dead in Hannibal Lecter’s kitchen?  Why was it that Will Graham, the man who shot her father, was once again found clinging to her lacerated throat, trying to save her life?  These three players; Hannibal, Will, and Abigail, on the outside seem to have nothing in common; no reason to even know each other.  And yet, here they were, found together once again, in the midst of very bloody, very violent circumstances.  What is their link?  What _is_ it, that they share, that draws these three otherwise unconnected people together?  The answer is most likely murder.  Did they share in one?  In many?  It is no coincidence that, less than a year ago, Will was incarcerated for murder.  He was set free, but only after the destruction of the judge, and the bailiff, in his trial.  Abigail’s parents are both dead.  Her stalker, Mr. Boyle, dead.  It seems that every person who gets close to these three ends up dead.  I would be remiss as a reporter not to connect those dots; to not bring to the public’s attention the danger that they are in while the two remaining of these walk the earth.”

              Freddie put the article down.  Will was frozen.  He could not move; if he moved even a hair, he would destroy everything they were working towards.  He didn’t even dare breathe.  He was crushing Hannibal’s hand so tightly his fingers burned.

              “So it is your belief, Miss Lounds, that Hannibal and Will are partners in _crime_ , not in mating.”

              “Yes.” she said.

              “Their lawyer has brought up, several times, that there is no explanation for their association other than that they are bonded.  Why else would Will Graham, a former police officer and FBI agent, associate himself with a known serial killer?  Yet you propose an answer to that question.”

              “Yes, I do.” she said.  “I believe they are both murderers, and they are faking a bond in order to cover up their crimes and keep Hannibal out of prison.”

              “Objection!  Pure speculation, your Honor, there is not an ounce of proof for _any_ of that!”

              “I disagree, your Honor; there are mountains of evidence of proof that Hannibal is a murderer and it _is_ a fact that Will Graham stood trial for murders himself.”

              “From which he was _acquitted_!”

              The judge slammed his gavel.

              “Counselors will approach the bench.” he bellowed, and both lawyers stormed towards it, their whispered shouts not carrying to the crowd as they argued their stances.

              Will’s eyes darted to Freddie’s and she defiantly stared back at him.  She had resolve, he had to give her that.  She was actually attempting to get Hannibal back into prison—where he rightfully belonged.  It was going to get her killed, of course; though perhaps she was counting on them losing this case and Hannibal actually returning to the BSHCI.

              That strategy didn’t factor Will in at all, however, and he tried to make that as clear as possible through his glare.

              The judge slammed his gavel again and the lawyers walked back to their tables; the DA looking smug, Mr. Thorton looking angry.

              “The witness’s testimony will stand, as a reflection of her interpretation of the facts presented.”

              Hannibal’s jaw tightened to a dangerous degree.

              Court was dismissed for the day, to resume again tomorrow.

              Neither of them spoke during the drive home. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

              The next day was somehow worse.

              “The prosecution calls Jack Crawford to the stand.”

              Will hadn’t quite been able to keep the growl from rumbling in his throat.  Hannibal’s fingers were quick to tighten around his knee under the table, hopefully before it became audible to the jury.

              The DA rose, straightening his tie.

              “Mr. Crawford, what is your occupation?”

              “Director of the Behavioral Science Unit for the FBI, Maryland division.” he said. 

              Will felt an unpleasant repulsion spread through him at the sound of Jack’s voice.  The fact that he’d ever taken orders from another Alpha, especially _that_ one…

              “And how do you know the defendants?”

              “Will Graham used to work for me, and Hannibal used to consult for the FBI.”

              The DA paused.

              “A serial killer used to consult for you?”

              Jack gave a slight shrug.

              “He was very good at catching other killers.  Before we realized what he was, he was an excellent member of the team.”  
              Will could see Hannibal’s pride even though his face didn’t move an inch.  He snorted at him, and he gave him a tiny, teasing smile.

              “And what kind of agent was Will Graham?”

              Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

              “He was an excellent agent; instrumental in capturing some of the worst criminals I’ve seen in my career.”

              “The type of man who would fall in love with and bond to a serial killer?”

              “Absolutely not.” Jack said, his voice carrying certainty, his eyes sure and strong.

              “Then what do you think is going on here?” the DA asked. 

              Jack shifted and sat straighter in the chair.  His voice carried authority; his expression was utterly sincere.  Will glanced at the jury and saw some of them leaning forward, all of them hanging on his every word.    

              “Hannibal is a master manipulator.  It has been shown that he has manipulated other people into committing acts of murder, good people, people who otherwise would never have done such a thing.  I feel that is what he is doing now; Will Graham is nothing more to him than another pawn in one of his games, a piece to get him out of prison.”

              Will _seethed_. 

              He saw Hannibal tighten his lips, and realized he’d been baring his teeth subconsciously.  He force his lips to cover them with great effort.

              “What have you witnessed to make you believe this?”

              Jack didn’t even pause.

              “First, Hannibal was not in heat the day we removed him from prison in order to capture another killer, Francis Dolarhyde.  Had he been, any one of the Alphan police officers guarding him would have noticed.  There were several.  They said nothing.”

              “And where are they now, Mr. Crawford?”

              “Dead.” Jack said, his accusatory eyes boring into Hannibal with hatred.  “Killed during Hannibal’s escape from the armored police car.”

              “And what happened during that escape?”

              Jack shrugged.

              “We have no way of knowing.  Will and Hannibal are the only survivors.  They have given their version of events, which is that Dolarhyde attacked the convoy, then drove off, leaving only the two of them alive.  It is a very unlikely scenario, in my mind.”

              The DA nodded slowly.  Will glanced at the jury and saw them believing every word Jack said.

              Probably because most of it was the truth.

              The anger was the only thing keeping his blood from turning icy with fear.  This was not going well.

              “And the events at the seaside house?”

              Jack shook his head.

              “Neither of their explanations are satisfactory, to either me or the FBI.  All we know for certain is that they both slaughtered Francis Dolarhyde; during the fight he injured them in return, and we found them knotted, covered in blood.”

              Will saw the distaste on the jurors’ faces.  It took everything he had not to sneer at them.

              “Was Hannibal in heat then?”

              “No.  Will was in rut.”

              “How can you be sure?”

              “I would have smelled it.” Jack said with finality.

              The DA paused.

              “What is your gender, if I may ask?” the DA said.

              “Alpha.”

              “And how long have you been an Alpha, Mr. Crawford?”

              Jack’s eyes darted out into the courtroom for the briefest of moments, but it was enough.  Will and Hannibal both turned their heads, simultaneously, their eyes landing on Bella, who sat almost in the back of the room.

              Then they both, in perfect unison, turned their heads back to face Jack.

              A flicker of uncertainty wavered across his features, and was gone.

              “Twenty years.” he replied.

              “So you’d know an omega in heat if you smelled one.”

              “Instantly.” he replied.  “There was no such scent.”

              The DA nodded, as if this was all the proof he needed.

              “No further questions, your Honor.”

              He turned and nearly strutted back to his seat, Will’s eyes boring murder into Jack’s skull.

              Mr. Thorton rose, taking a long moment to pause and read over the notes he’d been furiously scribbling while Jack was being questioned.

              “Mr. Crawford, you have stated that Will Graham was an excellent field agent.”

              “Yes, he was.”

              Mr. Thorton paused for a long time, running his eyes over the jury, as if that alone made his entire point.

              “Who was it, on your team, who first recognized Hannibal as the Chesapeake Ripper?”

              Will saw Jack swallow nervously.  A slight smirk came back to Will’s previously grim features.

              “Will Graham.”

              Mr. Thorton nodded.

              “And what was your reaction, when Will told you that Hannibal was the killer?”

              Jack paused.

              “I didn’t believe it.  Hannibal was so good at…”

              “You didn’t believe him.  In fact, you didn’t believe him _so strongly_ that you had him committed to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, for being the Ripper himself, did you not?”

              Jack faltered.

              “Yes.”

              “From which it was later discovered that Will Graham was not guilty, of any of those crimes, and when he was acquitted you allowed him back onto your team.”

              “Yes.”

              “And was he instrumental in the capture of Hannibal?”

              Jack’s eyes were staring straight ahead, now, unable to look the lawyer in the face.

              “Yes, Will was an essential part of that effort.”

              “Therefore,” Thorton paused again, ensuring that everyone in the room was listening to what he said next, “The _last_ time Will told you something concerning Hannibal, you didn’t believe him, and he was correct.”

              Jack had the composure of a statue, but Will knew him, and saw how nervous he now was.

              “True, but…”

              “So how are we to believe, if you were so _incredibly wrong_ concerning Will, and the things he told you about Hannibal the last time, that your beliefs are any more correct this time?”

              “Because this is _exactly_ what Hannibal does!  He twists and manipulates people into doing his bidding, to the point of using the _FBI_ as his own personal plaything, making a mockery of law enforcement, and he’s doing it again _now_ , using Will as his tool, _again_!” Jack screamed, leaping to his feet with rage.  Mr. Thorton backed away, pretending to be frightened, hoping to draw some questionability to Jack’s words.

              Because the words were, essentially, damning.

              “Thank you, no more questions.” Thorton said, hurrying back to his seat.

              Hannibal’s glare was almost imperceptible, but it wasn’t lost on him.

              “We’ll fix it on Monday, with our own witnesses.” he assured, his face a little paler than it had been.

              “Does the prosecution have any more witnesses?” the judge inquired.

              The DA stood up.

              “We do not, your Honor.  The prosecution rests.”

              “Alright, then.  We will begin again tomorrow with witnesses for the defense.”

              He slammed his gavel.

 

              Dinner was unpleasant.  Hannibal was barely keeping his rage at bay, and Will was nearly shaking, unable to name the cacophony of emotions that rampaged through him.  Both of them were aware that if they spoke, it would be entirely unproductive.  They ate jewelry-store-manager soup in silence.

              After dinner they took turns in the shower.  Will turned the water as hot as he could stand it and stood under it for a long time, blasting it over his head and down his back, trying to quell his utter hatred of Jack Crawford.  He’d known this was coming; and he couldn’t even _blame_ the man, really; he was, after all, right.  About everything.

              It only made Will hate him more.

              He walked out into the bedroom in a towel, just as tense as he’d been before.  Hannibal was relaxing on the bed in a bathrobe, hair still damp from his own shower.

              “Please, tell me what is on your mind, Will.” Hannibal said, slowly lowering the book he’d been reading to his lap.  Will glanced down at the bedspread, then the carpet, then his own toes.

              “Only about a thousand things.” he said.

              “Yes, but there is something specific that has kept you from speaking to me the entire evening.”

              Hannibal shifted to set the book down on the nightstand, and folded his hands irritatingly calmly in his lap.

              Will sighed.  He had to get used to not hiding things; his ability to do so wasn’t going to last much longer.  He closed his eyes and sat on the edge of the table, one leg folded under himself.

              “You’re going to be insulted.”

              Hannibal gave no reply for a long time.  Will opened his eyes to see him staring intensely at him.

              “You need to ask.  So ask.”

              Will grimaced.

              “If you have heats, why is it that the doctor from the BSHCI thinks you don’t?”

              Hannibal opened his hands and spread them over the dark-blue fabric of his bathrobe, his eyes glancing away from Will as he spoke.

              “I’ve explained to you about my mind-palace.” Hannibal said.  “The depth of it.  The nature of it.”

              “Yes.”

              Hannibal’s eyes rose to meet Will’s

              “You are there.”

              _I have found you there, victorious_.

              Will knew the words echoed in both their minds.

              He dared not say a word.

              Their eyes never leaving each other, Hannibal reached for him, sliding his hand palm-up over the bedspread, in a gesture of submissiveness.

              Shakily, Will reached out and took his hand as firmly as he could muster.

              “When my heats came, I simply retreated into my mind, to where you were with me.” he said.  “You took excellent care of me; so well that I showed no outward physical symptoms.”

              Will found his heart racing a bit, his ears burning at the tips, at this idea.

              “You have quite the imagination, Dr. Lecter.” he said, his voice breathier than he’d intended.

              Hannibal gave him a seductive smile.

              “I do, but in this instance, I believe my imaginings to be quite factual.”

              Will’s breath grew shaky.  His eyes darted down to the bed.

              “I don’t know, Hannibal, I’ve never experienced an omega’s heat before, I wouldn’t know what to do…”

              “Oh, but you do.” Hannibal said, squeezing his fingers tighter over Will’s hand.   He retracted his arm and pulled Will close to him.  Will moved, at Hannibal’s direction; allowing himself to be led to sit closer to a man who, in theory, was the submissive one.  “You already take such good care of me now.”

              Hannibal’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

              His eyes were unfathomably dark. 

              Will swallowed heavily, the weight of what Hannibal said hanging heavily in the room.

              And then he recognized a _very_ familiar glimmer in Hannibal’s eyes.

              “You want something.” he said.

              A pleased twitch lifted the corner of Hannibal’s lips.

              “I do.  While I am still able to hide some things from you, they aren’t many, are they?” he said.  Will felt old feelings rise to the surface, briefly, as he watched the predator before him lick his chops as he moved in for the kill. 

              “Don’t play games, Hannibal.  Don’t try to manipulate me.  Be plain.  What do you want.”

              Will added some forcefulness to his voice, hoping that Hannibal’s omega nature would make him have an easier time bending to the request.

              “Very well.” he stated.  “I need you to speak with Alana Bloom.”

              Will’s blood turned cold.

              “Not now, during the middle of your _trial_ …”

              “You misunderstand.” Hannibal said. 

              Will’s mouth halted, and he forced himself to listen.

              “I need you to speak to her, and convince her to testify on my behalf.”

              Will couldn’t keep the derisive snort from escaping him.   
              “Like she would ever agree…”

              “In exchange, I will lift the sentence I have placed on her head.  And her wife’s head.  And her child’s.”

              For as much as he was in love with, pined for, related to, and trusted Hannibal, Will could see the serpent coiling in front of him and would not have been surprised if it suddenly struck.  He would let it; oh, how he would let it; how he belonged to the deadly monster in whose bed he willingly lay.  But just then, Hannibal looked more to him like the vicious, dangerous predator that he was, and less like a mate of _any_ kind; submissive or not.

              “I want your word.” Will began, and he saw the darkness in Hannibal’s eyes grow deeper.  He set his jaw and spoke with a firm, solid voice.  “ _I_ , Will Graham, want your word that if she does this, you will not harm her, or her family, _ever_ —regardless of the final results of the trial.”

              Hannibal’s eyes did not blink.  Will’s gaze did not falter.  For what felt like hours, neither moved, neither blinked.

              And then finally, Hannibal relented.

              He moved his eyes downward, and Will smelled strong pheromones of sincerity and obedience come off of him.

              “I promise.”

              It was the first promise Hannibal ever made that Will truly, deeply believed to be the truth.

              It would hardly be the last.

 

              Will waited, seated in an armchair of the Blooms’ bedroom in the countryside near London.  Hannibal had known _exactly_ where they lived; Will didn’t even bother to ask how.  He easily dropped the few thousand dollars for a last-minute, first-class flight to England, including a rented car and hotel room with more amenities than Will even knew how to use.

              Breaking into their home had not been easy.  Observing it from a stand of trees half a mile away yielded a strong presence of security guards, in addition to regular staff.  In typical Alpha fashion, she was not taking any chances when it came to protecting her family.  Yet confronting her within her home was an essential part of Will’s plan.  He had to make it very clear to Alana that she was _not_ safe from Hannibal.  She could not hide from him, nor could she guard herself or her family from him.  Shaking her from the belief she was safe if she ran, or hid, was his best shot he had at getting her to agree.             

              He didn’t have time to properly stake out their home, to learn schedules and such.  It was already Saturday, and court resumed Monday morning.  So he waited for them to leave, a car of the security staff leaving to follow behind them.  He then waited on the outskirts of the field where Margot’s horses were grazing, until a hand came out at sundown to round them up. 

              Will was quick, not hesitating in the slightest to snap his neck.  The rush of power surged into him and he was momentarily stilled by it; unable to do anything but enjoy the fact that he’d just taken a life.  Then a chilly breeze blew by and he came back to the moment.  He had work to do.

              He led the horse by the reins back to the stables, which in true Verger fashion, were attached to the main house.  The rest of the stable hands were too busy working, brushing down and feeding, to pay him any attention at all.  One girl eyed him strangely, clearly not recognizing him, and he wasn’t dressed for working, but otherwise, said nothing.

              Nobody was guarding the side-door that led into the main house here.

              Almost disappointed that he would not get to kill anyone else, Will opened it and let himself in. 

              The staff was busy, working hard to prepare dinner and have the home ready for when the Blooms returned.  As such he decided it would be easier to hide upstairs, so he waited until no one was in the hall and made his way up to the master bedroom.

              Then he poured himself a brandy (it was very, very nice brandy), and waited.

              He heard their voices as they bustled in the front door, handing coats to servants, discussing the lovely time they’d just had at the petting zoo.  Alana’s voice echoed up the stairwell and down the hall to where he sat.  His heart leapt in a strange way at hearing her.  She was familiar; an old friend, but also a new enemy.  He took a long swig of brandy and waited.

              The whine of a toddler echoed down the hall.

              “I’ll take him up to get washed for dinner.” he heard Margot say.  Will remained seated and crossed his legs, trying to look as relaxed as possible.  He needed to appear absolutely confident in order for this to work, or Alana would never believe him.

              He heard the brisk, heavy footsteps of a mother carrying a child down the hall.  He caught a glimpse of Margot as she hurried past the bedroom door, and the young voice of their son as he mumbled something about his rubber froggie.

              A short time later, he heard the crisp click of Alana’s heels on the wooden stairs, listening to them until they came to the bedroom door and pushed it open.

              And froze in their tracks.

              She recovered quickly, the deer-in-headlights expression vanishing almost instantly from her face, replaced by a hard, cold stare.

              “Hello, Alana.”

              Neither of them moved.  Her eyes darted briefly towards the door and down the hall before flicking back to Will’s face, and that was all he needed to know she already knew everything.

              “They’re safe.” he said calmly, lifting the brandy to his lips and taking a slow, deliberate swig.  Her eyes never left his face, her entire body tense, her fingers clasping tightly into fists.

              “Hello, Will.” she clipped. 

              The silence hung in the air between them for an eternity.  Will studied her face.  He knew that face.  She was deciding whether to fight or run.  Considering she had awakened as an Alpha after her fall from the window, he would put his money on her choosing to fight.

              She narrowed her eyes.

                “Is he here?”

              Will leaned forward, resting the bottom of the brandy glass on his flattened palm.

              “No.” he said.  He saw her shoulders relax, just a hair.  “But I am here on his behalf.”

              Her jaw grew as rigid as stone.

              “Then you can leave.” she said, stepping aside to clear the doorway.

              He rose, slowly, and took two steps nearer to her, then stopped.

              Her eyes widened when she smelled him.

              “Oh, no.  You are _not._ ”

              His gaze burned into hers.  His days of having difficulty looking people in their eyes were permanently over, it seemed. 

              “I am.”

              She snorted, her eyes not leaving his gaze; Alpha instincts to challenge roaring to the surface at the scent of him. With the assurance that Hannibal wasn’t in her home, she was ready to fight, to kill, to protect her family.  Her red painted lips parted just slightly, baring her teeth just enough to be seen.  He had to assure her that he was no danger.  He didn’t want to fight.

              “I was under the impression from Jack that your awakening was only a pretense.”

              Will hadn’t exactly meant to bare his teeth.  Alana’s response to bare hers in return forced him to calm down.  He immediately closed his lips and brought the brandy up for another swig, if only to distract himself.

              “Hardly.” he said.

              She slowly covered her own teeth, but just barely.

              “What does he want.” she replied. 

              “Trust me, you’ll want to hear this.” he said in response.  “The price for what he is asking you to do, what he is willing to give you in return, is to remove you from his list.  Permanently.”

              Her eyes  narrowed.

              “You don’t actually _believe_ him.”

              Will struggled not to step closer.  It was strange, the feeling of wanting to _challenge_ her; but despite that instinct, he wouldn’t dare.  Not in her own home, in her territory, when her family was near.

              “I do.” he said.  “And I have very reasonable assurances that he’ll keep his word.”

              She scoffed.

              “Have you forgotten everything he’s done to you?  To me?  To _everyone_?”

              Will gave her a tight, pained smile.

              “No.  Not in the slightest.”

              “Then why would you believe there are _any_ assurances he’ll keep his word?”

              Her accusing eyes bore into him, yet he hardly felt it.  It was strange, how little the opinion of Alana Bloom mattered to him, now, when once it had been so important.

              “He’s my mate, Alana.  I’m going to bond with him.”

              Her jaw dropped and he had the satisfaction of shocking her into silence for a good, long minute.

              He took another sip of his brandy.

              “ _Going to_?” her eyes grew wide with horror.  “You mean you haven’t yet?  Then Jack _is_ correct; it _is_ a farce!  You are in your right mind, and you’re going to _choose him_?”

              He couldn’t entirely keep the pink glow from rising to his cheeks.

              “Yes.”

              She balked.

              “Then you’re not here on his behalf; you’re _part_ of him!  Get out of my house!”

              Her growl was low and feral; the warning of an Alpha near-ready to strike.  She bared her teeth.

              Will had to fight against his instinct to answer her with his own threatening display.  He was glad the brandy was making his head swim a little.

              “Don’t do this, Alana.” Will warned.  “Don’t make him even more your enemy.  The offer is sincere.  Think about your family.”

              He walked towards her, just a step, and placed the brandy glass down on an end table, in the subtlest motion that suggested he was preparing to fight.

              “He knew exactly where you were.  I got into your house easily, despite your security.  You live only because he has other things on his agenda at the moment.”

              She snapped her teeth shut with a tight clack and glared at him over bared teeth.

              “You have become something else.  I don’t know you.” she spat.

              “No.  You don’t.” he replied. 

              From down the hall, the giggling laughter of a child in the bath echoed off the walls.  Alana’s eyes darted towards the door for the briefest of flickers.

              She pulled her eyes back to face Will.

              “Tell me what he wants.  Then I will decide.”

 

              The flight back had been mercifully quiet, as most people on the plane slept during the overnight flight.  Alana had purchased a seat nowhere near Will, and he was grateful for that; though he still caught her scent now and then as a flight attendant walked by, causing the air in the cabin to drift.  They landed shortly after dawn on Sunday, and to Alana’s _great_ displeasure, drove together, in Will’s Bentley, to he and Hannibal’s home.

              He caught Alana’s gaze out the window as they pulled up the familiar driveway.  He saw every kind of emotion there, all of which turned to sourness as her eyes fell to the landing in front of the door, where she’d lain in the rain, back broken, life forever changed.

              “Are you still upset that the fall awakened you?” he asked.

              She slammed the car door unnecessarily hard and marched towards the front door.

              Alphas, Will thought.

              Hannibal was waiting for them in the study, seated on the long couch.  He didn’t rise; that little bit of rudeness exuding all the contempt he held for the woman, and more.  She walked proudly, hiding her fear excellently, towards the armchair across from him and sat, crossing her legs under her tight pencil skirt.

              Will walked and stood behind Hannibal, leaning over the back of the couch to nuzzle him behind his ear.  He purred softly, and Hannibal turned his head ever so slightly towards him.

              Alana’s eyes took in the sight with disbelief; and then they actually grew wider when she saw the bite mark on Hannibal’s neck.

              “Oh.  No.” she said.  “No, absolutely not.  No.  You said you weren’t bonded.”

              Will’s gaze left Hannibal’s face and they both stared at her with uniform intensity.

              “We aren’t.  Yet.” he said, emphasizing the ‘t’ of “yet.”

              She did not bother to hide the disgust from her face.

              “You bit him out of heat.” she stated, averting her eyes to stare at a vase.  “Considering the diet he must feed you, I suppose that’s not a stretch.”

              Hannibal tensed, and Will pushed his hands down on his shoulders to keep him in his seat.

              He relaxed.

              “I do appreciate your coming on such short notice.” Hannibal said.

              “Cut the crap, Hannibal.  Just get to the point.”

              He clenched his jaw.

              Will snaked his arm around Hannibal’s neck, slinking his mouth to hover over his ear.  For the first time, he found himself exuding calming pheromones, on demand.  He wanted Hannibal to be calm.

              He watched him inhale, and then felt him relax under his grip.

              “We have a bigger picture to worry about.” he whispered in his ear.  He felt, rather than heard, the softest grunt of agreement from Hannibal.

              “I assume Will has explained to you the situation.” he began.

              “Yes, briefly.” Alana replied.

              Hannibal crossed one leg over the other in perfect form, sitting with perfect posture, as if he didn’t have an Alpha he was attracted to purring into his ear, wrapped around his neck.

              Except for the slight tinge of red at the tip of his ear.  Will smiled to himself when he saw it.

              “The prosecution has presented Dr. Carmen as their expert witness.  I know you are familiar with him.”

              Alana sat rigidly, her eyes not leaving Hannibal’s face for the briefest of moments.

              “Go on.” she prodded.

              “He has, unfortunately, presented the jury with a very believable hypothesis, regarding my apparent lack of heats while incarcerated, and my ability therefore to bond with Will.”

              Alana pressed her lips into a tight, thin line.

              “But you did have heats.” she responded.

              The tiny prick of a smile at the corner of Hannibal’s mouth was his version of a wide grin, and everyone in the room interpreted it as such.

              “Exactly.  Which is why you shall be the expert witness for our side.  Who better to contradict Dr. Carmen, than the head of the psychiatric facility?”

              She stared for a long time.

              “You want me to help you become free.”

              Hannibal grinned again.

              “On the contrary, Alana.  I am already free.  I am sitting in my living room, unchained, unguarded, not even a police cruiser outside to watch me, with my mate at my side.  I assure you, I absolutely will not be going back into captivity.  Not when the only reason I was there is now around my neck.”

              Will’s ears burned, from both passion and embarrassment at Alana seeing their relationship so intimately close.  He felt stripped bare.

              He realized part of it was Hannibal’s own emotions.  He was allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of Alana.  To ask for her help.

              “If this trial heads in an unsavory direction, I can assure you, Will and I will be out of the country within hours.”

              During his entire speech, Alana did not move.  Now she crossed her arms.

              “Then why not just leave?  Go; move to wherever you like in the world.  Why bother with this charade at all?”

              Hannibal actually allowed himself to break his gaze with Alana, to turn his head fully to the side and gaze up at Will.

              “It would be enjoyable for us to continue our life here.” he said simply.  He turned back to face her.

              “As could you, should you accept my offer.  Will has made me promise that your good testimony will be enough to ensure that I will never harm you, nor your family, regardless of the results of the trial.”

              Alana’s eyes _finally_ left Hannibal’s face, and slid slowly up to Will’s, tracing over  his features, or at least the part of his face that wasn’t buried in Hannibal’s hair.

              “Will has made you promise.”

              Will stared directly back into her eyes, and otherwise did not move.

              Her gaze flicked back down to Hannibal’s face.

              “No one in this room has any delusions that Will has any _real_ power over you, Hannibal.  You will only entertain him for as long as it suits you.  On the day you kill him, I will be next.”

              At the mention of killing him, Will felt Hannibal stiffen and smelled a spike of fear come off of him, followed by pain.

              “Once we are bonded, which will be very soon, that scenario you propose will be utterly impossible.  Should I ever kill Will, I would also be killing myself.  So I assure you, you will be quite safe.”

              Her eyes flicked between the two of them several times, then, and Will caught her inhaling deeply, scenting them.  Scenting their sincerity.

              “You truly do intend to bond.” she said in disbelief.  “Both of you.”

              In unison, they nodded.

              Alana’s eyes glazed over then, and shifted to look at nothing in particular beside them.

              “God have mercy on me, for helping to unleash the monster that the two of you will become upon the world.”

              Hannibal was practically beaming with delight.

              “Thank you, Alana.  I assure you, this kindness will not be forgotten.”

              Her eyes darted back to his face once more.  She nodded with formality, then rose.

              “I suppose I should rent a car, then.  And get a hotel room.  Do you happen to have a copy of Dr. Carmen’s testimony I can review?”

              Hannibal rose then, buttoning his suit jacket as he did so.  He nodded, and walked over to the side desk while Alana called for a car.  There were a few other exchanges of formalities, and then she was gone.

              Will whirled the moment the door closed and pushed Hannibal back roughly against the nearest wall, shaking the authentic painting that hung over their heads in the foyer.

              “Will…”

              He growled and tore open Hannibal’s suit jacket, tossing it to the floor,  while crushing his lips hungrily, possessively over Hannibal’s.  He yanked off the vest next, his fingers then fumbling with the buttons on his dark green shirt.

              “Oh…Will…” Hannibal whispered then, his voice shaky and deeply affected.  He tried to lift his hands up to put them around Will, but Will’s grip slammed his wrists into the wall with a deep, seductive growl.  His lips moved down to suck on Hannibal’s neck as his fingers rushed to unbuckle Hannibal’s pants.  The moment they crumpled to the floor Will was shoving his own off, followed by his shirt, until they were both naked in the foyer.

              “Will…”

              “Mine.” Will growled, the rush of having to hold his possessive feelings back while another Alpha was in _his house_ too much to fight against.  Another Alpha who had mated with _his_ omega.  Another Alpha that had slept in _his_ bed.  He pushed Hannibal hard into the wall, his fingers roaming over his chest until they clasped around his soft dick.

              “Wi…ll…” Hannibal managed as Will exuded lust pheromones and began to stroke him in earnest.  Hannibal was hard in thirty seconds, his pants turning to gasps, and then to whines.

              Will smelled his slick and growled low and feral in his throat.  Heat bloomed up to his ears and spread down to his cock, which grew until it brushed against Hannibal’s stomach, smearing a streak of pre-cum into the fine hairs there.

              Will’s incessant sucking on Hannibal’s neck had him turning to butter beneath him, his knees bending as he failed to hold himself up.

              Will slid a hand around his hip and over his ass, his fingers searching for that tight, wet heat.  When he found it he teased over the opening and Hannibal whimpered, his knees giving out on him as his instinct took over.

              “Alpha…” he whined.  Will continued to tease him as he slid down the wall, until he was on the floor in the foyer.  “Please…” Hannibal said, his cheeks flushed, his ears beet-red. 

              “Show me.” Will growled, the room brighter than it had been moments ago.  He realized his eyes must be dilating.  His brain was too preoccupied to think further on that, however.

              “Show me that you want me.” he growled.  Hannibal keened and rolled onto all fours, presenting his ass to Will in a delightfully wanton, needy way.  His legs spread, his knees set wide apart.

              Will rose up onto his knees, unaware of how the hardwood floor hurt them, his hands grabbing and massaging Hannibal’s cheeks with delight.

              He slid forward, the head of his cock eagerly pushing up into that hole.  He was sucked in quickly, the pleasure making them both cry out, their voices echoing off the tall ceiling.  Will purred and Hannibal whined as he grabbed his hips and started thrusting.

              He pounded hard and fast, head tipping back as growls of pleasure reverberated in his chest.  Hannibal gave needy, desperate whines, each one piercing Will’s ears and going straight to his cock.  It grew fast, his knot swelling its way up the base until he was pushing it into Hannibal, who eagerly pushed his ass back to receive it.

              “Mmmaaaaaah!” Hannibal whined, and Will shuddered as he was sealed inside.  He fell forward, his chest pressing tightly into Hannibal’s back, his arms wrapped firmly across his chest.  It was as if the knot alone wasn’t enough to hold them together; every inch between them, every millimeter where they were separated was too much.

              Will’s lips were back at Hannibal’s neck, sucking, licking, nipping, tasting.  He continued to thrust, not able to pull out, his inward thrusts driving him deeper, his yanks back pulling Hannibal’s ass closer to him.

              “Mine.  Mine.  Mate.”  Will repeated, his arms crushing Hannibal to his chest.

              “Yes…Alpha.” Hannibal purred, his arms crumpling under him until he melted to the floor, ass in the air, eagerly receiving Will. 

              Will cried out and orgasmed, his seed pouring hot and needy into Hannibal.  The sensation of it made Hannibal whine, his own release following in tandem, a small puddle on the floor beneath his cock. 

              Will released again, his arms losing blood from how tightly he held Hannibal to him, and he didn’t care.  He couldn’t care.  Nothing mattered but Hannibal.  Nothing existed but Hannibal.

              With a scream he released a third time, and Hannibal whined with pleasure below him.  They both shuddered and melted to the floor, still tied as Will lay on his side and pulled Hannibal into his arms.  Their legs entangled together and Will pressed kiss after kiss after kiss along Hannibal’s neck, back, and shoulders.

              _Finally_ , his knot released, and he slid out of Hannibal with an anguished cry, his bones cracking and aching from the abuse he’d put them through, especially his knees.

              Hannibal lay in his arms, panting.

              “That…was…” Will began.

              “My heat will be soon.” Hannibal replied.  “A few days, at most.”

              Will had no response but to shudder and pull Hannibal more tightly into his arms.  This trial couldn’t end soon enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

              An enormous, chanting crowd came into view on the courthouse steps as Mr. Thorton drove them towards the parking garage.  He slowed nearly to a crawl, and Will was grateful now for the darkened windows that kept the people from knowing who they were.

              Signs reading “Omegan Rights Are Human Rights!” and “Bond Denial Is Oppression!” caught Will’s eye as they drove past.

              “It seems Freddie’s article has been overshadowed by the mainstream media.” Hannibal said with an amused tone.  

              “Don’t worry, I’ll walk in and get security to allow you to enter through the back…” Mr. Thorton began.

              “Absolutely not.” Hannibal said, as Mr. Thorton pulled into a parking space.

              The lawyer automatically turned around to face Will, awaiting his decision on the matter.

              Hannibal was no help as he also gazed at Will, expectantly.

              “ _I’m_ not gonna argue with him.” he replied, annoyed.  He didn’t have to pretend they were bonded _yet_.

              They got out and walked towards the front of the courthouse.  The chanting of the crowd grew louder as the approached, and Will could actually hear what they were shouting.

              “Omegas’ right to choose a mate!  Not the power of the state!”

              Then someone saw them.

              “Hannibal!  Will Graham!”

              Instinctively, Will’s hand shot out to clasp Hannibal’s and he stepped in front of him, protecting him from the crowd.

              He didn’t have to see Hannibal’s face to know he was inwardly grinning.

              Reporters barreled their way to the front as Will and Mr. Thorton tried to push their way through the crowd.

              “Mr. Graham!  How do you feel about the FBI trying to throw your omega back into prison?”

              “Angry.  How would you feel?” he snapped, letting every ounce of his discomfort with the crowd bleed through into his voice.  Authenticity.

              “Are you faking your bond with Hannibal?”

              “What’s it like to be bonded to a serial killer?  Do you have urges to murder now?”

              “Do you know all of his victims?”

              “Does your conscience eat at you in your sleep?”

              “Have you tasted human flesh?”

              “What will you do if Hannibal tries to kill again?”

              Will yanked on Hannibal’s hand as he plowed through the crowd, pushing his way past the reporters and all the others chanting.  His eyes darted wildly around him, assessing threats, making note of every person and how close they were to Hannibal.

              Someone reached out a hand and tried to grab Hannibal’s arm.

              Will whirled, his growl loud as it reverberated in his chest, loud enough to be heard over the cacophony. 

              People backed away.

              Satisfied, Will marched up the steps, beyond the line of security guards who kept the protesters outside.

              Once the large wooden doors closed behind them, it was quiet.

              “Delightful.” Hannibal purred into his ear.

              Will snorted.

              “You enjoyed that way too much.”

              “I enjoy everything you.”

              Will rolled his eyes.

 

              Walking into the near-silent courtroom was no less nerve-wracking.  Jack shot him an accusatory glare, and he glared right back, unable to keep his top lip from twitching up to show a bared tooth. 

              He was feeling more aggressive than usual, and the moment he realized it, it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

              Their desperate coupling on the floor of the foyer yesterday sprang to his mind.  He swallowed a thick lump down into his throat and did his best not to think about it.

              The judge entered, and Mr. Thorton began the defense.

              The first string of witnesses were boring and dry, and Will found it difficult to pay attention with Hannibal sitting _right there_.  First their lawyer called the nurses who had taken care of both Will and Hannibal when they were in the hospital; all of whom testified that it sure looked to _them_ like Will and Hannibal were a bonded pair.

              Then he questioned the doctors who had treated them, who gave similar opinions.  Will couldn’t follow the words.  His mind was so intensely preoccupied with the back of Hannibal’s neck he couldn’t think about anything else.  The way every one of his long, blond, perfectly straight hairs ended in a sharp, neat line that came to a subtle point just over his spine…

              The judge slammed his gavel and Will jerked back to attention.  He quickly darted his tongue out to catch the drop that had formed at the corner of his mouth.

              He swore he could see Hannibal smirking behind his eyes.

              Whatever the judge said, it sent the DA scrambling back to his seat with a bowed head.  Will straightened in his chair.  This was _important!_

              “The witness is dismissed.” the judge said, and the doctor rose and walked back to his seat.

              “Does the defense have another witness?”

              “We do, your Honor.” Mr. Thorton called, standing.  “The defense calls Dr. Alana Bloom.”

              Will jerked to full attention then.  He heard the click of her heels before he saw her, forcing himself to not react any more for her than he had for the other witnesses, at least on the outside.  He’d been in such a daze he hadn’t even noticed when she’d entered the courtroom earlier.

              She stood strong and confident beside the witness seat.

              “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” the bailiff asked.

              “I do.” she said.

              Her eyes bored straight into Jack.  He shifted uncomfortably from where he sat.  Hannibal invisibly smirked.

              “Doctor Bloom.” Mr. Thorton asked, walking up to her with purpose.  “Please state your profession for the jury.”  
              “Director and Head Psychiatrist at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.”

              Some of the jurors who had been as bored as Will suddenly perked up.  Every one of them was paying attention.

              “And how long have you held that position?”

              “Three years.”

              Mr. Thorton nodded.

              “So you were the director there during the entirety of Hannibal’s stay.”

              Her nod was utterly formal.

              “I was.”

              Mr. Thorton began a very slow, purposeful pace as he walked back and forth in front of the jury.

              “So you would have been aware of any serious medical issues that any of the patients in the hospital would have had.”

              “Absolutely.”

              Nobody uttered a word.  There wasn’t even the slightest ruffle of fabric as everyone leaned in to listen.

              “Were you aware then, of Dr. Carmen’s belief that Hannibal was not having any heats?”

              She tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, the way she would with a psychotic patient who had just told her he saw leprechauns.

              “Hannibal had regular heats.  Dr. Carmen never made any such report to me.  I’ll have to speak to him about that when I return to work, after my vacation.”

              She lightly plucked an invisible fleck of lint from her impeccable sleeve.

              “So you observed Hannibal having heats.”

              The most sincere look of disgust crossed her face.

              “Of course not.  We gave him his privacy during those times.”

              Will saw an invisible glare of derision pierce from Hannibal’s eyes directly into Alana’s.

              He reached out his hand and squeezed his knee.  _Behave_.

              Mr. Thorton knitted his eyebrows together.

              “Let me rephrase.  I meant to ask if you had observed, first-hand, symptoms of heat in Hannibal.”

              She folded her hands over her knee.

              “Yes.”

              “Can you describe them, for the jury.”

              Alana’s mouth flattened into a thin line.

              “That is very private information.  I don’t feel comfortable…”

              “Dr. Bloom, Dr. Carmen testified that Hannibal presented _no_ outward symptoms of heat, which he then implied meant he was not suffering from lack-of-bond insanity.  Do you feel this is correct?”

              Alana scoffed, though she did so in a manner that was still entirely graceful and professional.

              “That is inaccurate.  Hannibal exhibited all the normal symptoms of heat, if only milder than most omegas.  Raised body temperature, flushed skin, dilated eyes, a loss of complex vocabulary, whining, heightened sexual arousal accompanied by copious amounts of slick, sweaty skin, and of course, an insatiable libido.  We provided all appropriate accommodations, ensured that he remained hydrated, provided food, dry bedding, and prosthetic Alpha knots, which he used as you’d expect.”

              The smirk was only in her eyes, but Will had to fight the urge to sneer at her in response.  He knew it was all a lie; Hannibal had already told him he’d kept his heats entirely within his mind palace—yet the insinuation that she had seen Hannibal in such a state, when Will had not, was in effect a challenge to his Alphanity.  And he _wanted_ to rise to it. 

              Hannibal’s hand, on _his_ knee, kept him in place.

              “Dr. Bloom, during the time Hannibal was under your care, did it occur to you that his violence could be caused by lack-of-bond insanity?”

              “Absolutely.”

              Mr. Thorton nodded.  He walked over to the table and opened his briefcase.

              “I present Exhibit H for evidence, your Honor.  Dr. Bloom’s notes regarding her observations on Hannibal, dated…fourteen months ago.”

              The judge acknowledged the evidence, and he handed the file to Alana.

              “Are these your notes, doctor?”

              She glanced down at the page.

              “Yes, I wrote this.”  
              “Will you please read the highlighted sections, for the jury.”

              Alana’s eyes darted up to look at Will for the briefest of moments, before going back to the page.  She cleared her throat.

              “Hannibal is continuing to produce an incredible amount of artwork, using only the paper and charcoal he has been supplied with, as all other writing objects have proven too dangerous in his hands.  Among his artwork there feature three main subjects; Italian architecture, elaborate banquets set on tables large enough for kings, and Will Graham.”

              Will stiffened, desperately struggling to show _nothing at all_ on his face. 

              Hannibal drew him. 

              Over a year ago.

              As frequently as he drew food.

              “And what was your interpretation, at the time, of this artwork?”

              Alana’s eyes dropped further down the page as she continued to read.

              “The drawings of Italy are clearly nostalgia from his youth, when he lived there.  Being that his favorite hobby is cooking, it is obvious why he is drawing banquets.  Considering that Will Graham was an FBI agent who played a large role in capturing Hannibal, I would expect his drawings of him to be angry.  Instead they are drawings of beauty; the way an artist would draw a lover.  I think Hannibal dreams about Will Graham being his Alpha.  Considering the deep level of such an unreality, this points to the fact that Hannibal may be so desperate for a bond that he will look literally anywhere for one.”  
              She closed the folder and handed it back to Mr. Thorton without a single emotion on her face.

              The entire jury looked absolutely moved, however. 

              Alana was painting a perfectly _lovely_ picture of Hannibal’s insanity being caused by his pining for an Alpha; specifically, Will.

              “On another subject, do you believe Will is bonded to Hannibal?”

              Her eyes bore directly into Will’s skull.

              “Absolutely.”

              A shudder ran down his spine at how easily she lied. 

              “And why is that, Dr. Bloom?”

              “Mainly?” she said, tilting her head to the side again, in a gesture that made her hair fall just so, making her look kind and gentle while still carrying authority and intelligence.  “Because I knew Will.  I worked with him as a colleague and I knew him as a friend.  He was a compassionate, nervous, shy, gentle, brilliant man, who devoted his entire life to law enforcement.  He never, in his right mind, would have bonded to the monster that was Hannibal Lecter.  Which leads me to conclude that he absolutely was _not_ in his right mind that night on the cliff; because those are the actions of an Alpha in rut; not of the gentle Will that I once knew.”

              He knew that every word from her mouth was carefully calculated to sting, even as it helped Hannibal’s case tremendously.  He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of letting it show on his face.

              It seemed she’d learned a lot more from Hannibal than just psychiatry.

              “And I speak about Will in the past tense; because I do not know who he is now.  He has changed in an utterly profound way; so profound and so quickly that it could only be caused by a bond.”

              The verbal slap stung; yet the feeling didn’t last.  She was mourning the loss of a Will that had never existed; of a face he had worn to fool the world, including himself.

              He closed his eyes and remembered pummeling the jewelry store manager with the hammer.  He inhaled deeply.  His lungs filled with Hannibal’s scent.  When his eyes opened again, he was calm.

              “On another note, it has been testified by Jack Crawford that he is absolutely certain Hannibal was not in heat the night he and Will were found knotted on the cliff.  Have you read his testimony?”

              She nodded.

              “I have.”

              “What do you think of Jack’s observations?”

              Alana paused for exactly the right amount of time to show she was thinking, but not over-thinking.

              “I believe Jack, that he smelled no scent of heat.” she began.  Will stiffened.  “However, that is to be expected, considering how mild Hannibal’s heats were, and considering they were outdoors, on the top of a cliff with strong wind, no less.  I imagine it affected Will because he was in a confined space with Hannibal, long enough for the mild scent to significantly alter his brain.  Jack wouldn’t have noticed anything once outdoors.”

              Thorton nodded.

              “So you believe Jack, yet you also believe Will.”

              She nodded.

              “I do.”

              Will glanced over to the jury and saw relief on many of their faces, as if they’d wanted to believe in his bond and Jack’s testimony had been the only thing in their way.  Alana safely removed it for them, and now their faces were clear.

              “One last question, doctor.  Do you believe Hannibal should be set free?”

              She nodded firmly.

              “Absolutely.  His insanity was most definitely due to lack-of-bond, which is no longer the case.  To incarcerate him now would be unethical.”

              “Thank you, Dr. Bloom.  I have no more questions.”

              Mr. Thorton walked back to his seat like a proud goose.  No doubt, he felt he’d already won the case.

              The DA rose, his steps careful, deliberate.  He paused and remained silent for a long time, so long that the jury started to fidget.

              “Dr. Bloom, why are you claiming to be the Director of the BSHCI, when in fact, you quit that position a month ago?”

              Alana scoffed.

              “If I’ve quit, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

              The jury chuckled.

              “Did you not flee to England on the very day that Hannibal Lecter escaped from custody, in fear for you and your family’s life?”

              Alana laughed.  Her laugh was gentle and sweet, and it yanked at Will’s heart in a way her harsh words hadn’t.  He remembered briefly, but suddenly very powerfully, how he’d once been attracted to her.

              He inhaled to steady himself, and a flush rose to his cheeks.  His eyes darted to Hannibal, who hadn’t moved.

              “My family and I are currently vacationing in England, yes.” she said.  “I absolutely have not quit my job.”

              The DA frowned.

              “So you are not, then, in hiding from Hannibal, in fear he will kill you?”

              Alana laughed again and turned to face Hannibal.

              “Hannibal, I’m over here.”

              Everyone laughed again.

              She turned back to the DA.

              “No.  I am not afraid of Hannibal.  He’s bonded to a former officer of the law.  I highly doubt that Will would permit him to commit _any_ crime, much less as serious a one as murder.”

              The DA looked flustered.  He paused again, his eyes darting over the woodwork of the witness stand.

              “Has he threatened you, or your family, in order to get you to testify here today?”

              Alana sighed, the way a parent who has run out of patience sighs at a child.

              “If he had threatened me, I would not have left my lovely vacation to run _towards_ him, to testify on his behalf.”

              The DA was almost visibly sweating.  He inhaled deeply to steady himself.

              “Dr. Bloom, did not Hannibal Lecter nearly kill you at his home, three years ago?”

              Alana shook her head.

              “No, that was Abigail Hobbs.  She pushed me out of the window.”

              “But Hannibal left you there, to die on his front steps.”

              She sighed with annoyance.

              “Yes, because at the time, he was insane.  If anyone should be afraid of Hannibal, it absolutely should be me.  Yet here I am, testifying that he should be free.  Because as much as I dislike him personally, as a _professional_ , I would be remiss to recommend he remain incarcerated when his insanity is cured.”

              The DA had fallen off his game.  He never should have let Alana speak beyond her response.  Will almost felt sorry for him.

              “Miss Bloom…”

              “Doctor Bloom.” she interrupted, keeping him from regaining his balance.

              “My apologies. Dr. Bloom…did you not once sleep with Hannibal Lecter?”

              She laughed again, completely unfazed by the question, and Will saw disgust on the jury’s faces.  It was a good card to hold, but the way he’d asked the question made it sound like a low, desperate blow.

              “Who told you that?” she said.

              The DA faltered.

              “Some of your…previous colleagues, at the university.”

              Alana gave him an amused look.

              “There sure was nothing quite like university rumors.” she said.  “But I’m afraid that’s all they were.  We were merely colleagues.”

              Her eyes seared into Will over her false smile.  He felt burning, feral possessiveness rise up through his lungs.  Hannibal’s clasp on his knee was quick and harsh.  The scent of his calming pheromones was almost overwhelming.  It barely kept Will in his seat.

              “No…no more questions, your Honor.” the DA stammered, all his cards played and thwarted.  He hurried back to his seat.

              The judge dismissed Alana.

              She rose and walked back down the aisle at a crisp pace, not giving Will or Hannibal so much as a glance.  The click of her heels faded as she disappeared out the courtroom doors, no doubt heading for the first flight to Europe.

              “Does the defense have any more witnesses?”

              Mr. Thorton rose.

              “We do not, your Honor.”

              The judge nodded.

              “Very well, then.  We will take a short recess and then councilors will give their closing statements.”

              They went to use the restroom, and Will practically dented the wall he crushed Hannibal to it so hard.

              “I can’t smell you; but I can _feel_ that I smell you.” he growled, his mouth crushing hard against Hannibal’s lips. 

              “Will, there is hardly any…”

              Will shut him up with a violent kiss, and Hannibal groaned into it.  When he pulled away they were both panting.

              “Are you prepared for either outcome?” Hannibal asked.

              “I don’t care about the outcome.” Will purred, kissing his lips down Hannibal’s neck, over the healed false bite mark.  “If we win, I will have you here.  If we lose, I will have you somewhere else.  Either way, I will have you.”

              He felt Hannibal tremble beneath him, and with great effort, push him away.

              “It won’t do to rile ourselves up now.” he said, moving to stand in front of the mirror to straighten his jacket. 

              Will nodded and splashed cold water on his face.  He tried to think of anything else.  The least appetizing thing he could think of.  His mind went to Dr. Chilton.

              How unfortunate that his health had kept him from testifying.  Will was certain he would have said anything to help their cause.

              They walked back into the courtroom reassembled and took their seats.

              The DA gave some speech about “once a killer always a killer.”  It wasn’t even moving enough to make Will angry.

              Then Mr. Thorton rose. 

              “Discrimination.” he said, beginning his slow pace.  “That is the reason we are all here; that is the _only_ reason we have all been spending the last week of our lives in this room.  Unmated Alphas are imprisoned every day for their violent tendencies.  Yet when they bond, they are released, immediately.  Society understands that a bond to an omega is calming.  Gentling.  Grounding.  It turns a wild Alpha into a caring, loving, protective partner, a good parent, and a productive member of society.

              Here, we have the _exact same scenario_.  A person driven mad from loneliness, from a lack of bond; to violence.  He was imprisoned for that violence; as he should have been.  However, now that he has found a mate, he should be free, unquestionably, just as any Alpha would be.

              Yet that is not the case.  But the _only_ difference here is that Hannibal is an omega.  Society has no understanding for a violent omega.  This is not Hannibal’s fault; this is the result of stereotyping.  Having once been violent, and now no longer, because he has found a suitable mate.  The gender roles are ‘reversed’ from the norm that we expect.  But biology and nature have no regard for our stereotypes.  All Hannibal’s brain knows is that it is now bonded, safely and securely.  He is a changed man, as any newly bonded is.  The only stumbling block in the way is our own socially constructed ideas of what an omega “is” and “isn’t.” 

              The fact that we have spent _so_ much time questioning this bond, between this pair, has nothing to do with Hannibal’s crimes.  It has to do with the fact he is an _omega_.  Had he been born an Alpha, keeping all his other actions the same, he would have been released on the day of his bonding, no questions asked.  Keep this in your minds as you deliberate today.  Wonder _why is it_ that the FBI has fought _so hard_ to keep _this_ man in prison.  What has he done differently to deserve this different treatment?  The answer is nothing.  All he has done was be born the wrong gender.  That is his only crime.  It is your duty to release him from this punishment.”

              He sat, and a few members of the audience actually applauded.

              The judge slammed his gavel.

              In the end, the jury deliberated for less than an hour.

              “On the charge of falsifying a bond, how does the jury find?” the judge asked.

              “We find the defendant not guilty, your Honor.”

              Relief swelled through Will.

              Hannibal showed no reaction.

              Other people in the courtroom cheered and hugged each other.  Somehow, some of the activists had gotten in, it seemed.

              Will rose, and Hannibal rose after him.  Will clasped his hand tightly, pulling him through the crowd as it cheered and laughed on their behalf.  Hannibal’s eyes darted among them, and Will had no doubt he was planning menus.

              Mr. Thorton was grinning from ear to ear as he pulled out onto the highway.

              When they reached the front of their house, he turned to say something, but Hannibal cut him off.

              “Thank you for your exemplary service.  You will find your payment twice what was agreed upon.” he said, holding out a check.  He took it, and opened his mouth to say something else.

              “That will be all.”

              Hannibal rose and exited the car.  Will was quickly behind him.  He fumbled with the key, trying to get the lock open in a hurry.

              They barely had the door closed when he was on Hannibal, nose buried in his neck, inhaling deeply.

              “So good.” he purred.  “So good.”

              “Will.”

              Hannibal’s hand came up to clasp his jaw with an iron grip.

              Will’s eyes swam and took a moment to focus.

              “Yes?”

              “We need to build up our strength.  Let me prepare dinner, and meals for the next three days.”

              Will whimpered.

              “Go wash up and relax.” Hannibal said.  “I will only be a few hours.”

              With a last lingering kiss, Will conceded and headed for the stairs.


	9. Chapter 9

When Will emerged from the shower, the scent of Hannibal’s cooking wafted up the stairs to his nose and made his stomach rumble.  It smelled even better than usual, and he found himself drawn to it, padding into the kitchen dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

              His eyes immediately darted to Hannibal, his skilled hands chopping carrots into finely diced squares, then dumping them into a boiling pot of water.  Will’s eyes were glued to him as he worked, his gaze tracing up his deft hands, along his wrists and forearms, to be annoyingly obscured by the roll of his sleeves.

              “Will.” he said, turning.  He said something else.  Will didn’t hear it.

              His voice was delicious, if that was possible.

              “Will, please pass me the strainer.” he repeated.  Will blinked and tore his eyes from his beloved, to look to his right for the strainer.  He picked it up and walked slowly towards Hannibal, his eyes darting over his face, his hair, down to his neck.

              He didn’t even realize he was growling until Hannibal said “shhh.”

              He froze.

              “All I smell is your cooking, I…”

              A blush rose to his cheeks.  Hannibal’s expression didn’t change as he retrieved the strainer and walked with it towards the sink.

              Will realized he was wearing his mask.

              He swallowed heavily.

              “Hannibal…”

              “Just a few more moments.  I’ve set the table; why don’t you have a seat until dinner is ready?”

              Will nodded, dazed by Hannibal’s sudden cold demeanor.  He sat at the dining room table and waited, tapping his fingers anxiously on the table.

              When Hannibal emerged through the swinging door carrying a large tray, as he so often did, Will’s pulse began to race.

              He smelled a scent that was new to him, and it was far more appetizing than the dish.

              His eyes were tethered to Hannibal as he served the meal, placing the plates with slightly shaky hands.  The china rattled as it was set down.

              He sat without a word.

              “No flourish?  No list of ingredients?”

              Hannibal gave a thick swallow.  He would not raise his eyes to meet Will’s.  His entire gaze was cast downward; in fact, his head was bowed, just slightly.

              The sight made heat spread up to Will’s cheeks.

              “Hannibal.”

              “Please.” he said, and the word rang in Will’s ears.  A word of pleading.  Of begging.  “Allow me this last meal with you, where you voluntarily sit with me, eating our hunt together.”

              Will’s eyebrows furrowed and he frowned.

              “Hannibal, we’re bonding, not dying.”

              He didn’t reply, and instead picked up his silverware and began to cut his meat into perfect squares.  Will was lost in the scent of him, delectable and lovely, almost to the point of not wanting to interrupt it by putting food in his mouth. 

              He continued to breathe in, with long, deep inhales, but halted when he smelled it.

              “You’re afraid.” he stated simply.

              “Terrified.” Hannibal confessed, not raising his eyes.

              Will’s heart bloomed with compassion when he heard Hannibal’s utter sincerity.

              “I won’t hurt you…”

              “I do not fear pain, nor physical injury.” he said matter-of-factly, continuing to eat his food at an infuriatingly normal pace.  “Please eat.”

              Will lifted his silverware and began cutting his meal.  He didn’t want to taste _anything_ besides Hannibal right now, the way his scent wafted over his nose was heavenly and he didn’t want to interrupt it.

              But when he brought the bite of food near, his stomach grumbled.  He gave in, and allowed the beautiful flavors that were Hannibal’s cooking to spill over his tongue and invade his nose.

              It gave him a clearer mind.

              “I won’t hurt you in _any_ way, Hannibal.  Physical or otherwise.”

              He saw the corners of Hannibal’s mouth pull downward.

              “We shall see.”

              It hurt; but Will reminded himself that he deserved such mistrust.  At least twice he had betrayed Hannibal to the point of breaking his heart; probably more.  While he knew he would never do so again, he also knew that words were useless on the matter.  He would just have to show him.

              They finished their meal, and Will helped Hannibal clean up.  When he entered the kitchen he was greeted by the sight of more than twenty plastic containers lined along the counter, filled with steaming, fresh meals, lids lying beside them to allow them to cool.

              “Hannibal, this is impressive, even for you.  When did you have time to make all this?” he asked.

              “They were simple meals.” he replied, keeping his eyes down cast as he put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.  He turned and walked straight past Will to head for the door.

              “Stop.”

              Hannibal halted instantly.

              He hadn’t _meant_ to sound so commanding; but then, Hannibal was probably feeling very pliant and cooperative already.

              Will walked to his side and lifted his finger to his chin.  Hannibal flinched at the touch, and it stung.  Will pushed the feeling aside.

              He lifted his head, but Hannibal’s eyes continued to look downward.

              “Look at me.”

              His eyes snapped up to meet Will’s.

              Hannibal held his breath.

              “Tell me what’s the matter.”

              He watched Hannibal’s face struggle; watched his eyes dart away and then force themselves back to obey Will’s command. 

              “I don’t have the words.” he confessed.  “Thinking is becoming…difficult.”

              Will sighed and slid his hand up to press his palm against Hannibal’s cheek.  He tilted his head to lean into it.

              The time for conversations was coming to an end, it seemed.

              “I will take care of you.” Will promised.  Hannibal closed his eyes, his mask crumbling away from him, revealing a face full of fear and pain.

              “May I sleep?” he asked.

              “Absolutely.” Will replied.  “Let’s head to bed, and we’ll sleep for as long as you wish.”

              He smelled Hannibal’s relief.

              “Thank you.” he whispered, and turned to move towards the door; though he did not take a single step.

              Will realized he was waiting for him to lead.

              Taking Hannibal’s hand into his, Will wrapped their fingers tightly together and led him upstairs.  They changed into their pajamas like it was any other night, and slipped under the covers, both on their usual sides of the beds.

              Less than a minute later, however, Hannibal was sliding back, nestling his ass against Will’s crotch, pressing his back to Will’s chest.  He slid his arm comfortingly around Hannibal’s stomach and pulled him close, pressing gentle kisses to the back of his ear.

              “Sleep, Hannibal.” he whispered, and less than a minute later, Will was greeted by the soft sounds of his steady breathing.

              Will realized then just how exhausted he was from the trial.  It wasn’t long before he was asleep himself.

 

              Will was slowly dragged from sleep by the sound of heavy breathing, and the realization that he was uncomfortably warm.  Groggily, he dragged his eyes open, Hannibal’s face coming into focus, awash in moonlight from the window.

              He was panting softly, his lips parted, a sheen of sweat covering his skin.  A few of his perfectly straight hairs were stuck to the side of his face.  His eyes met Will’s in the darkness and their gazes locked onto each other.  Neither spoke for a good few minutes; both content to just lie near each other.

              Then, gently, slowly, Will lifted a hand and brushed his fingers across Hannibal’s cheek.  He closed his eyes and leaned his face into the touch.  His skin was warm; his cheeks flushed.  He turned and planted a kiss onto Will’s palm, then another, then a third.

              He turned his head back to face him.

              “Please, Will.” he said, his voice husky and dry.

              Will wrapped his arm over his waist and pulled him close.  His body was warm; so warm.  He pressed their lips together and Hannibal hungrily kissed him, tongue lapping at his lips, teeth grazing his tongue.  Will returned his eagerness, the warmth of Hannibal’s body feeling _so_ good; better than usual. 

              It became uncomfortably hot, and Will lifted his arm from Hannibal to toss back the blankets.

              The scent slammed into him with breathtaking force.  Will inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, lungs filling with the most delectable, exquisite flavor he’d ever breathed.  Lust spread through his veins, curling around his balls and infecting his brain.

              He growled, low and gentle and affectionate.  He rolled until he was on top of Hannibal, pinning him to the bed beneath his weight.

              “Yes…” Hannibal whispered through the pants that left his lips.  “Please.”

              Will purred and licked along Hannibal’s neck, breathing in his scent in deep, long inhales.  Hannibal gasped, tilting his chin upwards to let Will in.  He sucked the flesh into his mouth and moaned with delight, his hands wandering up to curl his fingers into Hannibal’s hair.  Hannibal’s hands wrapped around his back and pulled him tightly close.

              Will kissed up to his ear and purred softly into it.  Hannibal gave a soft groan and spread his legs, so that Will’s hips sank to the bed between them.  Their erections pressed together through their pajamas, and Hannibal let out the softest, barely audible whine.  Will bucked forward on instinct, and Hannibal trembled beneath him.

              “You taste…so…good.” Will whispered, nosing his way down Hannibal’s chest, unfastening the buttons of his pajama shirt as he went.  He nuzzled his nose along the skin of Hannibal’s chest, breathing him in, the air from his exhales tickling his skin, making him suck in his stomach.  Once every button was open Will’s hands eagerly grasped Hannibal’s sides, his fingers squeezing into his skin as he ran his tongue over his navel. 

              “Will…” Hannibal panted, his stomach heaving in and out, his fingers sliding from Will’s back to nest in his curls.

              Will smoothed his fingers over the thin fabric of Hannibal’s pajama pants and pressed his lips over the tip of his clothed cock.  He shuddered, and from between his lips came a sweet, angelic whine.  It shot through his nerves like electricity, alighting in his fingers which gave up their intent to tease and instead yanked Hannibal’s pants down to his ankles in one go.

              Hannibal bent his knees up, kicking the pants to the floor in haste, and Will felt nearly dizzy from the luscious scent that washed over him.  He growled possessively and leaned towards it, his hands pushing open Hannibal’s thighs without thought.  He leaned in between Hannibal’s legs, slick pooling on the bedsheets from between his ass cheeks, and gasped with pleasure at the scent.  His breath washed over Hannibal’s hot skin, making him twitch and squeeze his fingers tighter in Will’s hair.

              “Please…Will…”  
              Drunk on the scent, Will pressed his tongue to the delicious skin before him.  He licked, and Hannibal jumped from the sensation, a loud cry escaping him.  Will tasted, and moaned, fire burning down his throat and blooming in his veins.  He drove his tongue in further, causing another _delectable_ whine to emerge from Hannibal’s voice, in tandem with the savory flavor that slid down his throat, coating it with heaven.  He licked his way deeper, his fingers pushing Hannibal’s thighs further apart, his face pressed against his warm, soft ass.  Will’s tongue eagerly sought Hannibal’s hole, flicking over it so that Hannibal jumped and whined, his fingers tightening further in Will’s hair.

              The thought that he’d never done this before briefly flickered across his mind, but his scent-addled brain didn’t care.  Hannibal was heaven and Will needed to be close, needed to taste him, to hold him, to _have_ him.

              He continued to caress Hannibal with his tongue, until his twitches and whines melted into caresses and deep, satisfied moans.  Hannibal no longer fought his hands, trying to close his thighs, but spread them further, welcoming, pleading. 

              Will lifted his head up, eyes burning embers, and smacked his lips.  He glared down at Hannibal with hunger as he rose to his feet to strip off his pajamas.  He crawled up over his body, sliding his hips easily between his legs.

              “Mine.” he growled.  Hannibal’s eyes locked onto his.

              “Yes.” he said softly.

              Will’s hand reached down to guide himself in between Hannibal’s legs, and he slid in _so easily_ , Hannibal eager for him, hungry for him. 

              Hannibal’s chin tipped upward and his eyes rolled back in his head as he sighed with contentment.  Will moved his hips, sliding in and out of him, feeling his muscles pulling, sucking him in on each push inward.  Will’s hands returned to Hannibal’s thighs, lifting them up over his knees, making it even easier to push into his mate.  He groaned from the pleasure, glowing up from his cock out through the rest of his body, taking him even as he took Hannibal.

              Will pounded faster, pressing his palms into the mattress beside Hannibal’s head, his mind forgetting about anything that wasn’t Hannibal.  His lips sought his skin, plastering kisses and licks over his neck and collarbone and chest and ears, wherever his lips could reach as his hips drove his cock deep into his mate. 

              Hannibal’s whines turned to purrs, his body relaxed and pliant, his hair shaking from every thrust Will pounded into him.  Their eyes met, and Will leaned down to kiss his lips, every inch of his skin glowing with rapture.

              He pulled back and gazed down at Hannibal again, his face as soft and open as the rest of him, the mask he wore long gone.  Beneath him Will saw a man; as vulnerable as he was, raw, bare, trusting.

              He felt his knot starting to grow and drove in faster, heat and lust drowning out everything else he was feeling.  Hannibal gazed up at him and purred, his eyes half-closed from pleasure. 

              Will grit his teeth as it grew, his thrusts becoming shallower as it spread further up his cock, until it was too close to the tip and he pushed it in.  Hannibal cried out when it breached him, then clutched at Will’s back with his hands to pull him near.  His body sucked Will in _deep_ , trapping him inside before he’d even fully swelled.

              His knot grew and locked them in place, and Hannibal orgasmed, his body convulsing under Will,  his eyes rolling back in his head, his lips whispering _Will Will Will_.

              The pulses of his body squeezed Will in the most delicious of ways, and then he was spilling into Hannibal, pulses of lust and pleasure overriding everything else he knew.  His arms wrapped tightly around Hannibal’s back, pulling him close, every pulse of his orgasm driving his hips desperately deeper into his mate.

              Will’s body trembled as Hannibal squeezed around his cock.  He buried his face into his neck, breathing him in, wanting to smell, him, to taste him, but not desiring to bite.  Even in the midst of his clouded, orgasm- occupied mind, he knew this was still only pre-heat.

              They relaxed together.  Will planted kiss after kiss after kiss on Hannibal’s face and down his neck, not moving from between his legs, resting atop his chest.  Hannibal purred in his ear.

              Will’s knot deflated after only a few minutes, and he pulled out, panting.  He fell to his side next to Hannibal and held him close while their breathing slowed.

              He stroked his fingers lazily across Hannibal’s stomach, pressing kisses to the back of his ear and neck as Hannibal breathed contentedly beside him.

              “Just another few hours, now.” Hannibal said softly.  Will purred and kissed his ear.

              “Can you think now?” Will asked gently.  He felt Hannibal stiffen.

              “Whatever it is, I’m going to find out.” Will said.  “You might as well just tell me, so we can get it out of the way.”

              He felt Hannibal’s heavy sigh beside him, as he conceded that Will was right.

              He set his jaw and closed his eyes, an unpleasant expression on his face.

              “This is…not my first attempt at a bond.” Hannibal confessed.

              Will felt an ugly roar of jealousy rise up within him, along with other unpleasant emotions such as hurt and betrayal.  But then he inhaled, and Hannibal’s scent overpowered all of that, muting it, making it feel distant.  All that was left behind was pleasure as he drowned in the pheromones of Hannibal’s pre-heat.

              In the end, his only reaction was to tighten the arm he had around Hannibal’s waist.

              “It was during my youth, just after I awakened, in my teen years.” he said.  “It went…badly.”

              Will could smell the discomfort and unpleasantness coming from Hannibal, but he couldn’t _feel_ him, and that distance was becoming less and less tolerable.

              He brought up his fingers to Hannibal’s hair and stroked it.  He felt him relax under the touch of his Alpha. 

              “You killed him.” Will said.

              “I did.” Hannibal replied.  “In the midst of our bond forming.”

              Will’s heart ached for young Hannibal, who went through such a horrific experience, even if it was his own doing.  He didn’t reply, wanting to let Hannibal tell the story as he saw fit, without interruption.

              “He bit, and the moment he did so, I saw how he saw me.  As sick, and needing to be healed.  As wrong, and needed to be corrected.  He wanted to erase me.  Wanted to remove my desire to hunt, to kill, to eat.  He was going to take that away.  So I bit in return, just as I bit Dolarhyde.  I ripped out his throat with my teeth.  I felt powerful, free, and relieved.”

              Will didn’t reply at first, instead only pressing more kisses to Hannibal’s neck and shoulder, stroking his fingers over his stomach.

              “You know that’s not the case now, don’t you?” Will said, his voice gentle, soothing.  His omega was afraid, and all he wanted to do in the world was to make him feel safe.  Protect him.  “You’ve seen me hunt.  You’ve seen me enjoy my kills.  You know I share this with you, and treasure this part of you.” Will whispered, knowing that his usual, sane self would probably laugh at how sappily he spoke; but in the drunkenness of Hannibal’s heat-pheromones, it felt right.

              Will turned Hannibal over so he lay on his back, and pressed their lips together, crushing Hannibal to the bed beneath him.  He pulled back and looked into his eyes.

              “I have seen you hunt, and you are beautiful.  I have no desire to change you.  I want to be _close_ to you.  To know you.”

              He smelled a wave of deep affection, and Hannibal lifted up his face to crush kisses to Will’s lips.  Will rolled on top of him and pressed Hannibal’s hands above his head, groaning as he tasted _his_ omega.

              “Forgive me for still having reservations.” Hannibal whispered.  “But I cannot fully know your intentions until that moment, so before then, I will be insecure.”

              Will only purred and ran a trail of kisses down Hannibal’s neck.

              “Then your insecurity will only last a few more hours.” he said gently.  “For now, let’s try to sleep again.”

              He wrapped his limbs tightly around Hannibal’s body, holding him close, tight, safe.  He wondered how much of their behavior was still themselves, and how much was instinct.  It all felt genuine.  It all felt real.

 

 

              Will next woke up to Hannibal’s mouth wandering its way down his chest.  It was still dark, but other than that he had no idea what time it was.  Hannibal’s lips surrounded the tip of his cock and he groaned.

              “Yes, baby.  You want it, don’t you?” he said, his voice gruff.  Somewhere in his brain he was aware he’d never normally say such a thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

              Hannibal’s reaction was to purr and suck Will’s cock deep into his mouth, pressing his tongue along the underside.  Will’s hands tangled in his hair and he bucked his hips up, driving himself in.  On every pull out Hannibal whined, his head bowed low, his ass raised in the air.  His nostrils flared as Will fucked his mouth, lust drowning him, desire overwriting whatever else he might have thought or felt.

              “Oh you’re gonna take it so good.” Will whispered.  He yanked Hannibal’s head off of him roughly by his hair, and he looked down at him with wanton, needy eyes.  He tried to crawl up to straddle Will, but Will had had enough of teasing.  He rose up onto his knees, his cock hard and ready.  He gestured with his eyes and that was all it took; Hannibal whined and crawled in front of him on all fours, presenting his ass, swollen and read and weeping with slick. 

              Will reached out and stroked it, his eyes burning with lust as his gaze raked down the gorgeous omega in front of him.

              “Please, please, fuck me.” Hannibal said, his voice low and throaty and beautiful.  Will grabbed both ass cheeks tightly with his palms and spread them, thumbing Hannibal’s hole.  He mewled and pushed his ass back further.

              “Please, Alpha.” he said.

              “You want it?” Will growled.  “Want my cock?”

              “Yes, yes.”

              The sounds coming from his omega’s voice spread lust and heat through every inch of him.  Will leaned forward, letting his cock slide under Hannibal’s balls, teasing him.  He whined and pushed back, pressing his back tightly up against Will’s chest as he loomed over him.

              “Does it hurt, how badly you need me?” Will crooned, a heavy, thick glow on his face that drowned his senses.  “Do you ache for me?”

              Hannibal’s whine was loud and piercing.  Unlike the previous mini-whines, this one sang through Will’s spine and made him _need_.  His rut came upon him with a rush, coloring his vision Hannibal, making the rest of the world disappear as the only thing that mattered was under him.  He pulled back and thrust forward, his cock guiding easily into the hole that so desperately wanted it. 

              Hannibal cried out from pleasure and relief and need.  Will pounded into him immediately, fast and hard and rough, his fingers pushing strongly against his hips.  He drove himself in, over and over, growling as Hannibal keened and whined.

              “Yes, yes, so good, exquisite…” he muttered, and Will’s heart bloomed with affection.  In the midst of his heat, Hannibal’s… _Hannibalness_ still pierced through as he used a word that was so _him_.  Will drove himself into his mate, joining them repeatedly, Hannibal’s body seeking him, pushing back with desperation. 

              Will slammed into him, fire and passion consuming him as he fucked the beautiful thing below him.  With every thrust, Hannibal whined with pleasure, his body relaxing and becoming more supple, more malleable, more open to whatever Will wanted to do.  He stroked his hands over Hannibal’s back, his sides, wherever he could reach, slowing his fucking just a bit to _appreciate_.

              Hannibal whined with desperation.

              “ _Please_.” he cried.  “Please, Alpha!”

              Will had zero power to resist that.  His fingers clasped his hips and he drove back in at the fastest pace he could manage, spreading Hannibal open from the inside, taking him, feeling his heat quiver and swallow him whole.  He was consumed by desire and affection.  He leaned down and pressed his chest tightly against Hannibal’s back, thrusting as hard as he could without allowing an inch between their bodies.  Hannibal shuddered and pressed back, eager to be close. 

              “Take me.” he cried, and Will held him tightly, thrusting as hard as he could, though the position didn’t allow for him to use his maximum strength.

              “Alpha, take me!” Hannibal cried again, and Will rose back up onto his knees and slammed as hard as he could into the wet, desperate man below him.

              The moonlight grew stronger suddenly as a cloud moved out of the way, and in the light, Will saw the Verger brand on Hannibal’s back.  He snarled with rage and jealousy, his fingers clawing at it, trying to scrape it away.  Beneath him Hannibal screamed and threw his head back.  For a brief moment, fear trickled through Will’s heart that he’d hurt him.

              “Yes!  Get it off, Alpha!” he cried, and Will’s fingernails dug in deep, scraping over the brand, trying to remove the mark of another from _his_.

              “Mine!” he cried, digging his fingernails over the brand, trying to rip it from Hannibal’s skin. 

              “Yes, yours.” Hannibal replied, his body shaking beneath him.  Heat sprang through Will’s body and drowned his brain.  His knot started to form and he leaned forward again, wrapping his bloodied hands tightly around Hannibal’s chest, pressing heavily into his back.  He scraped his teeth along his neck and Hannibal whined, tilting his head to the side.

              “Mate!  Bite.” he cried.  “Please!”

              Every instinct in Will’s body screamed _yes_.

              Some distant, faint echo of his real brain said _no_.

              He listened to it.

              He pulled his teeth away, and Hannibal cried from disappointment.

              “Soon, baby.” he promised, and words were lost to him.  Lust and fire spread up through his cock, his knot swelling its way up.  The moment Hannibal felt it he pressed back, popping it in before it was even fully formed.  Will groaned from pleasure and mindlessly drove himself in, feeling Hannibal’s body constrict around him, pull him in and hold him tight.

              He swelled to a full knot and Hannibal shuddered, his cum pooling on the bed beneath his dick as his slick poured out of his opening.  Will tensed and crushed his mate tightly in his arms as he came, dragging sloppy kisses over Hannibal’s back, pumping his seed into his lover. 

              “Mmmmmm, so good.” Hannibal purred, lifting his head to press the side of his face against Will’s nose.  “So good, Will.  So good.”

              “Yeah.” Will whispered, spreading more kisses over Hannibal’s skin as he orgasmed again, pleasure overriding any other sensations, making him unaware of the ache in his knees and the exhaustion in his arms.

              Hannibal’s arms gave out on him and he flattened down into the mattress.  Will lay on top of him, crushing him beneath as they remained joined.  He remained locked in bliss, a third orgasm making him tense and groan with pleasure.  Hannibal purred beneath him, and _finally_ his body was satisfied, though his knot remained hard and fully inflated, even as the orgasms ceased.

              “To keep my seed inside you.” Will rasped, nibbling gently on Hannibal’s ear.  His only answer was to moan softly with satisfaction.  Then they slept, exhausted, still knotted.

 

              He woke up because he was hungry.  Daylight shone in through the window, now, the sun still low in the sky.  Will looked down at his beautiful omega, curled against his stomach, fingers clasped tightly against the skin of Will’s chest.  He placed affectionate kisses to Hannibal’s forehead, though he didn’t stir.

              He had vague recollections of fucking Hannibal through the night, repeatedly, often.  He realized that the moment of clarity he was currently afforded would be brief.  His stomach rumbled.

              Gently, Will slid his way out from under Hannibal and rose.  His eyes raked over the bed, drenched in sweat, blood, slick and cum.  Blood covered Hannibal’s skin, in the shape of Will’s handprints.

              Concerned, he walked around to the other side of the bed to look at Hannibal’s back.  He set his jaw when he saw the claw marks over the Verger brand, now unrecognizable.  They were clotted, no longer bleeding.  It was fine for now.  He would bandage it properly once the heat ended.

              Forcing himself to leave the sleeping angel before him, Will walked downstairs to the kitchen.  He washed the blood from his hands and turned to the twenty-some-odd plastic containers, now cool.  He put the lids on all of them and stacked them in the fridge, pulling out two of some stew-looking meal and poured them into bowls before heating them in the microwave.

              He was pretty certain that even in the depths of heat, Hannibal would never eat out of a plastic container.

              He brought the steaming plates up to their room and set them on the nightstand, then went back down to get glasses of water.  Once everything was ready he sat beside his love and stroked his fingers through his hair until he stirred.

              Hannibal’s eyes parted, and Will was greeted with an unguarded, genuine smile.

              “You are beautiful.” he said.  Hannibal turned and buried his face into Will’s calf; the nearest most available part of him.

              “You need to eat, love.”

              Hannibal nodded and slowly rose, scooting to the edge of the bed, where Will set the plate over his bare thighs. 

              “Mmmm.” Hannibal replied as the food hit his tongue.  “Filipino Menudo.” he purred, eagerly taking another bite.  “Flavored with brown sugar and bay leaves.”

              Will laughed; a delighted, honest, real laugh that echoed off the walls of their room.  Hannibal looked up at him with an innocent, open smile, and cocked his head to the side in a question.

              “You are still so gorgeously _you_.” he said, raising his own spoon to his mouth.  He closed his eyes to taste the delicious flavor.  In a few short moments, the meal was gone, their stomachs and bodies satisfied, just for a moment.

              They lay beside each other, Will’s arm draped over Hannibal as he buried his face into his chest.  He traced his fingers up and down Hannibal’s back, taking care to be very gentle when he stroked over the bloody clots that covered the verger brand.  Hannibal shivered with delight.

              “And you are still you; vicious, violent, and utterly possessive of me.”

              Will pressed his lips to Hannibal’s with deep affection.  Hannibal rolled onto his back and opened his lips for Will, the kiss long and languid as they tasted each other, licking the last bits of the meal from each other’s mouths.  Hannibal groaned softly and Will shuddered as he smelled a fresh wave of slick permeate the air. 

              He rolled on top of Hannibal and crushed him to the bed, affection and desire and lust all weaving together into a beautiful emotion he couldn’t name.  He slid his lips from Hannibal’s mouth over his jaw and down his neck, tasting, licking, worrying his flesh between his teeth. 

              “I love you.” he whispered.

              Beneath him, Hannibal whimpered.  His body opened, his arms and legs spreading wide as he tried to lift his hips to beckon Will.  He slid slowly down Hannibal’s body, dragging long, gentle kisses over his skin, pausing to tease his nipples, which made him cry out and bury his fingers into Will’s hair.

              His hot mouth wandered over Hannibal’s stomach and down to his cock.  It occurred to Will that he hadn’t yet tasted Hannibal in this way, and that became a tradgedy.  He licked his tongue over it and Hannibal keened, spreading his legs, lifting his hips.

              Will inwardly smiled and sucked his lips over the head, teasing it with his tongue, tasting the drops of cum that leaked from Hannibal’s swollen erection.  Will sucked him in deep, sealing his lips around the flesh, and Hannibal groaned with pleasure. 

              “Alpha…..” he said, spreading his legs further.  His scent wafted up and tempted Will; but he was determined in his task.  He breathed it in and let it cloud his mind, driving him to suck hard when he pulled up and push roughly with his lips when he moved back down, working Hannibal’s cock with his tongue until it was dark purple and swollen with desire.

              Beneath him, Hannibal started to shake, his fingers clasping desperately at the sheets, his chest heaving.  He bucked up and spread his thighs further, a desperate, needy whine crying from his lips.

              “Please fuck me, please…”

              Will rose off of him with one final lick over the tip of his cock, which caused Hannibal to whine.  He gazed down at him with utter affection; the writhing, sweaty, messy, destroyed creature below him that he loved with all his heart.

              Will lifted Hannibal’s ankles  and draped his knees over his shoulders.  He slid in easily; Hannibal fully ready for him, now.  Will’s eyes fluttered closed from the pleasure and Hannibal’s moan echoed how he felt.  He thrust in languidly, slowly, savoring every moment that he was joined with the body below him.

              “Will.” Hannibal said, his voice clear and strong.  Will opened his eyes, clouded with desire, and looked into his face.

              “I need you.” he said, the statement assertive and sure.

              “I’m here.” Will replied.  “Not going anywhere.  Never leaving.” he managed through his slow thrusts, and then language was lost to him as pleasure surrounded his every nerve.  He leaned down and kissed Hannibal, the fire in his blood igniting once more, driving him in, deeper, deeper, closer, harder.  He picked up his pace and fucked him, pressing his body into the mattress, pinning him beneath.  He purred and whined, his eyes half-open, his arms reaching up to clasp desperately around Will’s back. 

              The feeling grew in intensity, a bright spark that became a blinding light, and it was nothing Will had ever experienced.  His body drove him into Hannibal but it wasn’t enough.  His knot swelled, and was swallowed into him, and locked them together, and it wasn’t enough.  Their arms clasped desperately at each other, their lungs panting to breath each other in, and it wasn’t enough.

              Hannibal tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck, and Will’s eyes were driven to it.

              “Claim me, Will.  Forever.”

              He had no idea why he’d waited this long.

              “Yes.” he said.  He leaned forward and drove his teeth into Hannibal’s neck.  They moaned together, voices in synchrony, as sparks danced from the places where they joined.  Immediately, Will felt him.  Immediately, he knew he was no longer alone.  This was not like his empathy.  This was not merely understanding another, it was _knowing_.

              It was beautiful.

              Will sank his teeth in deeper, tightly.  Somewhere distant, he was aware his body was orgasming.  Much closer, he felt Hannibal’s pleasure, light shining up from him, open, ready.  Affection.  Love.  Need. 

              _Do you feel how I love you_?

              _Yes_.

              He wasn’t sure who had spoken and who had replied.  It was them both.

              Then Hannibal cried out, his eyes flying wide, and suddenly Will was _invaded_.  Ecstasy drowned him, light blinded him, and the last conscious action he took was to pull Hannibal tightly close to his chest, before he fell over the edge of the abyss.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

              Will fell into the sea, black in the night.  He gasped as he breached the surface, the thick liquid pouring over his eyes and face, the tang of iron strong in his nose.  Red.  It was all red, as far as he could see; an ocean of blood, and he was in the midst of it.

              He swam, forever without getting tired, and yet not for more than a few seconds, but he was exhausted.  The sky was black.  No moon; not a star, not an airplane.  With no light he wasn’t sure how he could see; but the waves of blood were clear before him, black and yet red, red and yet black, thick and warm and cold.

              Finally, his foot hit against a rock, and he looked up, and saw a shore.

              Upon the shore sat a castle.

              He knew that castle well; though this was much, much larger than the Estate Lecter.  It stretched on forever to the right and left, and vanished into the blackness of the sky.  Attached to it he could see other structures; walls from the university where he and Alana had lectured, parts of the Port Haven Psychiatric facility, sections of Hannibal’s house in Maryland, pieces of Will’s house from Wolf Trap, parts of the BSHCI, and dozens and dozens of other buildings that Will couldn’t name.

              He walked up to the looming wooden doors, thick and heavy with iron rings on them instead of knobs.  He pushed against one, but it did not budge.  He moved his hand downward and his fingers brushed against a latch.  The lock rattled loudly.

              He stood back and looked up at the looming structure.

              “Let me in, Hannibal.” he said. 

              He looked down, and in his hand found a ring of keys.

              He raised his ears and his heart started racing.  Dimly, he was aware that his actual heart was _still_ racing, as his body, undriven by his conscious mind, drove itself to mate with Hannibal during his heat.  But now that seemed a distant unreality.

              He lifted the keys to the lock, choosing the correct one on the first try.  It wasn’t a guess.  He knew.

              The door and lock and castle faded away.

              He blinked in the sunlight, squinting from the brightness.

              He was on a green field, and he was running with delight. 

              “You’ll never catch me, Hannibal!” Mischa cried in Lithuanian, and it brought a sting of tears to his eyes at hearing his mother tongue.  Her wispy blond hair blew in front of her eyes as she turned her face to look behind her. 

              “Of course I will, I always catch you!” he shouted.  His heart sang with joy as she giggled and he chased her, her white dress flowing in the breeze as they darted out of the bright sun and into a shaded garden.

              She sat on the edge of the stone fountain, poking at the surface of the water with a stick.  Hannibal growled and dove at her, pushing her into the fountain, soaking them both.  She screamed partially from annoyance and partially from glee, splashing him with as much water as her little hands could allow.

              Hours later, or was it minutes? they were sitting on the ground beside the fountain, each leaning against a different tree.

              “ _I_ don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, I don’t care what Mother and Father and the doctors say.” she said, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers.

              “Of course there is.  I don’t have feelings.  They’re not wrong about that.”

              She rolled her eyes and looked at him like he was an idiot.  Whenever anyone else looked at him that way, it made him feel cold and empty.  But when she did it, he felt warm.

              There was a flash, and Will was looking at him like he was an idiot, and that same warm ache filled his heart.

              “Weren’t you laughing just now, when you pushed me in the fountain?” she said.

              “Yes, but…”

              “Well laughing means you were feeling.”

              “No.  I was merely enjoying myself.”

              She snorted at him.

              “Enjoyment is a _feeling_ , Hannibal.  Maybe even the best one.  And you enjoy _lots_ of things.  Drawing, painting, music…”

              “Harpsichord.”

              She threw a pebble at him.

              “That _hideous_ harpsichord!”

              A shadow loomed over them, and they looked up to see the stone face of their aunt.

              “Children, come indoors now.  There is something serious you must know.”

              A flash of a funeral.  Of Mischa now in a black dress, and a veil over her tearful eyes.  He reached out a hand and clasped hers tightly.

              “I will keep you safe.”

              Then blood.  Her blood, drenching the ground beside the fountain, coating the pebbles as the three animals tore at her with their teeth, starving beasts that had come from the woods.

              Hannibal snarled and yanked her body from them, bruised and beaten and barely recognizable.  They laughed at him. 

              Fools.

              The first one dove towards him, and his knife was ready.  He sliced his gut open deeply, without hesitation.  His bowls spilled out onto the ground, and it was distractingly satisfying.  Satisfying.  That was an emotion, he reminded himself.

              He snarled up at the other two.

              “Shit, he must be an Alpha.” one declared, and they both started to run.  He chased after them, leaping into the fountain, leaving a perfect handprint in Mischa’s blood there as he hunted his prey.

              He caught the second, knife plunged deep into his side, and tore it through his kidney.  He collapsed and Hannibal roared, his cry deafening and terrifying, even in his childish voice.

              The third got away.

              A flash, and he was eating her.  They could not have her.  She was _his_.

              A flash, and he was coating the handprint in varnish, to seal it forever, as the highest moment of his pride.  The moment when he realized he was a _hunter_.

              A flash, and he was away at boarding school.  Reading.  Learning.  Absorbing it all.  Some of the children tried to speak to him.  He could not be bothered with their kind.

              A flash, and he was an omega.  He roared with rebellion.  Life was infuriatingly unfair.  Could _nothing_ go right for him?  Was he always to endure pain and misery?

              The flashes grew faster.  Hunts; kills; works of art he created from bodies.  Medical school, cooking, growing his culinary skills.  Finding enjoyment in opera, in surgery, in feeding his hunts to the other pigs.  Moving to America; learning to mold minds as well as bodies.  Creating killers.  Taunting the FBI.  Kidnapping Miriam Lass, patient after patient, kill after kill, his life flew faster and faster.

              He walked through a door, and was in Jack’s office.  His eyes fell upon a nest of brown curls, and everything slowed to a stop.  He stepped, and the sound echoed through the room.  The curls turned to face him, and it was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.  As beautiful as Mischa; gorgeous and ethereal, a deep, visceral glow beneath his skin.  His eyes were downcast; shy; buried deep under false beta-suppressants, but in them, there was a light he hadn’t seen since he was eight years old.

              His heart swelled, wider and brighter. 

              Everything was changed.  Everything was different. 

              Hannibal remembered what it was to be alive.

              He stood, frozen by it, unable to move.

              Will rose from the chair and turned to face him.  His eyes pierced into him.  He walked slowly forward and paused, just before Hannibal’s face.  He lifted a palm and rested it on Hannibal’s cheek, and kissed him.

              The room melted around them, and became Abigail’s kitchen.

              Will was standing over Garret Jacob Hobbs, trembling and covered in blood, and Hannibal stood beside him.

              “See.” Garret and Hannibal said.

              Will lifted his eyes to Hannibal’s face and smiled brightly.

              “I see.”

              His heart swelled with love.  Abigail gasped at their feet.  They both turned to look at her.

              “I’m sorry.” they said. 

              Will rose, drenched in blood, more and more of it, dripping from his body.  He stepped over Abigail, leaving a trail of blood to rain down upon her as he did so.  He reached Hannibal and lifted a hand up to stroke his fingers along his face, coating his skin.

              “You made my first kill so very, very easy.” he whispered, leaning up to plant a bloody kiss to Hannibal’s lips.  “You made it seem just.  You made it seem right.”

              “It _was_ right.” Hannibal replied, his breath heavy and thick as it washed over Will’s bloody mouth.  “It is right for you to kill them, with me.”

              Will pushed Hannibal back against the counter and crushed his body beneath him, pressing heavy, dripping kisses to his lips.

              “Show me more rooms, Hannibal.”

              They were in Hannibal’s office.  He had blood on his lip from his fight with Tobias.  Will walked into the room, and his heart soared.

              “I was afraid you were dead.” Hannibal said, rising from is desk.  “It is the first fear I remember feeling since Mischa’s death.”

              Will pulled him tightly into his arms.

              “I live.” he said, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s lips, and they were making love.  They were in his office; the fire was lit, papers scattered the floor.

              “Run away with me tonight.” Hannibal whispered.

              “Yes.” Will replied, purring as he fucked Hannibal slowly on the leather chaise.

              “Mmm, but that isn’t what you said.” Hannibal reminded. 

              _I’m sorry_ Will’s voice echoed from around them, and they were in Hannibal’s kitchen.

              His hand caressed Will’s soaking wet face.

              “Don’t.” Will whispered. 

              “I must.” Hannibal replied.  “You cannot love me as a beta; you cannot love me if you take Jack’s side.”

              Hannibal’s blade was deep.  His fingers were inside Will, and he curled towards him.  Pulled him close, wrapped him into his arms.

              _I’m sorry_ , and the voice was both of theirs, echoing through the halls of the enormous palace.

              Will stood in the center of it, and he was in the chapel.  Anthony Dimmond was displayed.  He raised his ears at the curiosity of knowing his name, now.  He walked up and touched him, remembered killing him, remembered taunting Bedelia.  Remembered flirting with him; remembered breathing in his Alphan scent.

              The room turned red from anger and betrayal.  Will looked up to the balcony where he knew Hannibal now stood.

              “Get down here.” he commanded. 

              Hannibal obeyed, and was beside him.  Will reached out and clasped his chin tightly between his fingers, forcing his eyes to look at him. 

              “You showed Bedelia your true nature before you showed me?” he snarled.  Hannibal opened his lips and snarled in return.

              “I attempted to show you.  You betrayed me.  I was heartbroken.”

              Will’s grip only tightened in anger.

              “You let another Alpha touch you.” he snarled.

              “You were not an Alpha yet, and that was his fate.” Hannibal said, lifting his eyes towards the heart-shaped corpse in the center of the room.

              Without turning, Will whistled, the sound loud and shrill as it echoed off the walls.  The corpse unfurled, its bones creaking and popping as it bent itself slowly back into its proper shape.  Will kept his back to it and yet saw it, reawakening, crawling, shaping, transforming.  Feathers and fur sprang from its bare skin.  The head reared up, antlers growing tall and proud, until it stood beside them, enormous, the heavy snort of air from its nose ruffling their hair.

              Hannibal could not tear his eyes away.  They were wide with awe.

              “It is us.” he said, immediately understanding.

              “It is.” Will replied.  His anger shifted the room until they were in the snow.  Hannibal was tied to a tree, thick cable wrapped around him, specifically his neck.  Will whistled again, and the stag pulled forward, tightening the ropes.

              Their eyes burned into each other.

              “You will not kill me this time.” Hannibal said, and Will snarled at him for _daring_ to know that he had killed him last time.         

              “I will know everything.” he said.  “Whether you like it or not; whether I like it or not.”

              Will growled, low and feral, and lunged forward to attack—but at the ropes, his knife sliced through them, freeing Hannibal, freeing him from the straightjacket in Mason Verger’s pigpen, freeing him from the jumpsuit at the BSHCI, freeing him from the restraints in the police vehicle as they moved towards the cliff; freeing him, freeing him, freeing him.

              They fell and landed in the snow.

              Buster was yapping.

              Heart frantic, racing, Will scooped him into his arms and ran into his house.  He shut off all the lights.  He grabbed his shotgun.  He waited.

              The beast shattered the glass, and Will tossed aside the gun to free his hands.  They snarled and attacked each other, Hannibal sitting quietly in an armchair in the far corner, sipping from a cup of tea.  Will snarled and fought, defending his pack, fighting the beast that became the Wendigo.  Hannibal’s ears perked up with delight.

              “What a beautiful way to see me.” he said.

              Will snapped his neck.

              He dumped Randall’s body at Hannibal’s feet, panting, breath thick.

              He turned his head, and they watched him on his bed with Margot.  He wasn’t looking at her at all; his eyes were distracted by the Wendigo in the corner.  It’s gaze locked with Will on the bed, and when he came, it was for it; not for her.  Will heard a shatter, and turned to see Hannibal had dropped his teacup.

              “You loved me even then.” he stated, tears springing to his eyes.  Will reached down and pulled him up by his hair, yanking him to his feet, to eye level.

              “I have always loved you.”

              He crushed their lips together, and they were naked on Will’s bed, making love. Hannibal’s skin was slate-grey, but it was Will who had the antlers, growing from his head as he came, over and over inside Hannibal, fingers clutching at him, clawing at his skin, desperate to get inside him in every way possible.

              Hannibal’s claws reached up and pierced their way into Will’s skin.  He cried with ecstasy, crushing their lips together over his tear-streaked face.  He pulled away and it was Hannibal looking up at him again, his eyes as teary and moved as Will’s.

              “I have never been so honored.” he whispered.  Will collapsed on top of him, shaking, exhausted.

              “Show me more rooms, Will.”

              They were tied up around Mason’s table.  He was speaking, but neither of them were listening.  Their gazes were upon each other, their faces bright and smiling with affection.

              “I really meant it.  There was no logical reason for me to have done it, other than for you.” Will said, and he turned and drove his teeth into Cordells’ face, tearing the flesh away.  He _felt_ Hannibal’s delight; felt his affection bloom.  Will grinned as he chewed the flesh and swallowed it, this time, his eyes locked onto his lover’s as blood dripped down his chin.

              They were back in Will’s house, and Mason was sitting in the chair.

              “Ah, but I _did_ show you,” Hannibal retorted, to an accusation Will could barely remember.  He walked around behind Mason and broke his neck, and Will’s heart swelled with desire. 

              “Kill him this time.”

              Hannibal smiled up at him.

              “With pleasure.”

              Mason died, and together, they fed him to Will’s dogs.

              Will reached up to touch Hannibal’s hand, but he was stopped by a pane of glass.

              They stared at each other between it, neither needing to hide his longing, now.

              Hannibal lifted his palm to press against the glass, opposite Will’s.

              Neither spoke, but understanding flowed between them anyway.  Hannibal hadn’t had a choice.  He already belonged to Will, forever, and to no one else.  Will hadn’t had a choice.  He already belonged to Hannibal, but years of fighting against his own internal beast were not so easily overcome.

              Hannibal would wait for him, as long as it would take.

              Alana walked into the room.

              “I will take away everything you love.” she said.  She reached up and slit Will’s throat.

              “No.” Hannibal said, rushing to the glass, watching helplessly as Will crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from his throat. 

              “No!” he cried.

              “It isn’t nice when the one dying is the one _you_ love, is it?” she snipped, a smirk on her face.  “Very rude, Hannibal.”

               It was not Alana, but the beast who had killed Mischa.  Will lay at its feet, the gash now across his stomach, not his throat.  His breathing was laborious.  His eyes darted to Hannibal and he smiled.

              “You killed me so beautifully.” he said.

              Hannibal screamed with fear and rage.  He charged towards the glass, over and over and over, Alana and the beast watching him impassively.  He charged again, and again, to no avail.

              Amongst the crowd of those who mocked him now stood his mother.

              “The wall keeps you from feeling, Hannibal.” she accused.  “You can’t break through.  You don’t _have_ feelings.  The emotions are all over here.” she said, gesturing at the room where Will lay, dying.  It was full; full of love and laughter and anger and fear; delight and pride and jealousy and joy.  “You can’t have them.  They are not for you.”

              Tears streaked down his face as he charged at the wall. 

              “Violence doesn’t solve this lack, for you.  Beauty won’t solve it.  You are hollow.”

              He broke his shoulder slamming into the wall.  Then his knee.  He fell, defeated, crumpled, his hands pressing to the glass as he lay on the floor beside Will; so close, yet untouching.

              Will’s eyes were half-open, and he lifted them to Hannibal, and smiled.

              “Will.” he said, tears streaking his face.

              “Don’t look at what you are alone.” Will whispered.  “Look at what we are together.”

              Hannibal looked down and saw himself growing.  His hands and feet became hooves; his clothing tore to reveal fur and feathers.  Antlers pushed forth from his head as he screamed, growing, changing, _becoming_.

              He snorted, enormous and strong.  He charged forward and the glass shattered, raining down upon them, upon all of them.  Thousands of teacups, broken and irreparable; paintings shredded, sheets of music burning.  Everything he surrounded himself with disintegrated, and there was darkness.

              He fell, face-first, into a river.  Guzzling and splashing he struggled to not drown, when two strong, sure hands slipped under his arms and yanked him to his feet.

              “Silly, you can stand here.” Will said. 

              Hannibal turned and there he was, face bright and smiling, dressed in waders and a fisherman’s cap, a pole in his hand.

              Hannibal looked around them, and the beautiful, meandering stream, the water peaceful and glistening in the sunlight.  He watched Will as he cast; a long, lazy, graceful motion, more beautiful than any piece of music he could ever compose.

              “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Will said, smiling at him.  “You have some lovely compositions.”

              _Do you hear my thoughts, now_?

              He grinned, almost laughed.

              “Yes.” he said.

              _How much of me have you seen?_

              He smiled again, and stepped forward.

              “Enough.”

              His fingers were gentle as they stroked through his hair.  The line jerked, and Will laughed as he pulled on it, reeling in his catch. 

              Then they were in a Louisiana kitchen, and he was preparing the fish for them both.  Will’s arms were around his waist.

              “Show me more rooms, Will.” Hannibal said, tossing the fish up in the blackened frying pan, the flames licking at its sides. 

               Will nodded, trembled, and shut his eyes.

              They were surrounded once again by darkness.

              A pendulum of bright light swung once, twice, three times; each with an accompanying hum that was so loud it was nearly deafening.

              Massacres; brutal and bloody, gore-scapes of every imaginable flavor, littered the wide, open space before them.  Hannibal walked amongst them, recognizing some of his own work; intrigued by others.  The corpses moved in reverse, then forward again, re-playing their final moments, every drop of blood catalogued neatly. 

              Amongst them all stood Will, naked and drenched in blood, in his hand the murder weapon of each.  He turned to face Hannibal.

              “I’ve kept them because they are beautiful to me.” he said. 

              He walked, and Hannibal followed him, passing the fungus garden where living corpses fed the mushrooms, and the tower of bodies, and the beautiful, spiral palette of colors arranged in a nautilus pattern.  Each tableau was presented with impeccable detail; more detail than Hannibal remembered, every hair, every drop of blood depicted exactly where they had been.  Around them colors swirled, and those colors became glowing spots of light, and eventually, Hannibal realized, they were fireflies.

              They were standing in an old, overgrown room made of stone, the walls nearly covered in moss.  There was the sound of water dripping.  Fireflies filled the air, and snails covered the walls.

              Tears burned at the corners of Hannibal’s eyes.

              “My garden.”

              Will turned to look at him, a deep, affectionate love in his eyes.

              “I had to show you this.”

              He pulled on a rope, and up rose the body of Chiyoh’s prisoner, entwined at the feet, and wings of glass spread open, sparkling in the light.

              The tears fell from Hannibal’s eyes.

              _Beautiful.  You are beautiful._

              He stared, for a very long time.  His eyes traced along the wings, learning the intricate details of every pane of glass, admiring both the artistic placement and expert craftsmanship that worked together to build such a beautiful display.

              He turned to Will and saw his face glowing.

              “You created this before your becoming.”

              Will smiled at him.

              “It was part of my becoming.  My second display, after Randall.”

              _I thought that was part of your trick_.

              “Oh, no.  Randall was sincere.  I meant what I did to him.”

              Hannibal closed the distance between them and swept Will into his arms.  He crushed their lips together tightly, and dimly, Will was aware of their bodies, still moving in tandem, still mating, still driving to be as close as possible.

              They pulled back from their kiss and Hannibal was lost in Will’s eyes.

              “I really like this one.” Will said.  “But this is my favorite.”  
              They were on the cliff, and before them stood a bleeding, panting Dolarhyde.

              Their eyes rose to gaze at each other across the distance between them.  Their eyes locked, and they attacked the dragon together.

              This time, Hannibal saw it from Will’s perspective; and Will from Hannibal’s.

              His mate lunged with ferocity and grace; beautiful and feral.  They sang together, their bodies moving as if bonded, their minds desperate to be one.  The blood flowed, hot and magnificent, drowning them both, cleansing them both.

              Will leapt onto the back of their prey and tore out its throat with his teeth.  In it, he had the memory of tearing out the throat of a false Alpha, and he drove in with ferocity and possessiveness, killing the animal that thought it could have his mate.

              Hannibal drove his blade across the dragon’s abdomen, and in it he saw the memory of his first kill, the bowels of the animal that had killed his sister spilling onto the ground, stunning him into stillness with its beauty, and Will was with him.

              “It’s beautiful.” he whispered.

              Then they stood, naked and bloody at the edge of the cliff, clinging to each other, panting, breathless.

              “Are you ready?” Will asked him.

              Hannibal’s eyes were locked onto his, their fingers clutching tightly to each other, and nodded.

              “Yes.”

              Will pushed, and they fell.

 

 

              Will’s eyes flew open, his heart pounding, desperate gasps coming from his lips.  The late afternoon sun shone in the windows, and his eyes danced erratically as his brain tried to make sense of all that was happening.

              He unlatched his teeth from Hannibal’s neck, causing a new spring of blood to flow forth and ooze down onto the bed. 

              Hannibal’s eyes sprang open and he drew labored, panting, thick breaths.  Frantic, his eyes darted around as if he were blind.  His fingers clawed at Will, and Will could _feel_ his fear.

              “Shhh….” he said, reaching up a hand to stroke through Hannibal’s hair.  “Shhh, I’m here.”

              “Will?” he cried, his voice distant and childlike.  “It’s…it’s…so much, Will…I’m drowning, I’m drowning.”

              Will rolled to the side and pulled Hannibal into his arms, aware that his knot was still firmly secured inside Hannibal.

              “Shhh, I’m right here.”

              “Yes, I know, you’re everywhere; everything is you; it’s all you.  So intense, so bright…”

              Will closed his eyes.  He could feel the roiling fear that was Hannibal, inside him.  He tried to grab ahold of it, but it was too slippery; an unorganized mess.  Hannibal hyperventilated beside him, his chest heaving in and out as he tried to process emotions on the level that Will felt.

              Will kept his eyes closed, and thought of Florence.  Thought of the Botticelli, thought of the moment when he sat beside Will in front of it.  Remembered the serenity of the moments before, when he was sketching it peacefully.  Peaceful.  Serene.

              Hannibal started to calm.  His breathing slowed, though his heart was still racing.  His eyes were darting frantically side to side.

              “Aš esu čia.” Will said, gently stroking his fingers across Hannibal’s face.  His eyes focused and he gaped at Will.

              “What?”

              “Aš esu čia.  Aš tave myliu.”

              Hannibal started to sob.  Tears rolled down his face, smearing onto Will’s chest.  He started speaking frantically in Lithuanian, too fast for Will to understand, though he understood the meaning.

              _Don’t let me be alone_.

              “Never.” Will replied.  “We are bonded.  For life.  You are mine.”

              Hannibal only clung to him harder.  Neither spoke for a long time.  Hannibal clutched at Will, and he held him close.  Eventually, his knot receded and he let himself slip out, without moving any other part of him.  He stroked Hannibal’s hair gently with his fingers, occasionally planting kisses to his forehead.

              “I can’t find myself.” Hannibal said.  “Everything I feel is you.  It’s so intense.  How do you…how do you _live_ like this?”

              Will gave a soft snort, surprisingly calm despite the panicking  Hannibal in his arms.  Illogically calm.

              “You’re here, Hannibal.” he said softly.  “You’re just very quiet, and I’m very loud.”

              Will felt Hannibal’s scrutiny as he considered the statement.

              “Your emotions are overwhelming.” he said.  “No wonder you can’t handle them.”

              Will laughed.  The sound of it echoed through Hannibal’s soul, and a bright, adoring smile sprang to his lips.

              “You delight in me.” Hannibal replied.  Will reached up to stroke his hair between his fingers.

              “Do I ever.”

              Will felt Hannibal’s awe.

              It was tightly controlled, wrapped up in a neat package and kept perfectly in order—but it went _deep_.

              Will gaped at the depth of it.

              “I was already inside you, to the core.”

              Hannibal lifted Will’s hand and brought it to his lips.

              “Since the day I saw you.”

              They both basked in the glow they had for each other, exploring their newly-discovered emotions, each truly feeling the love that the other had for them.  Hannibal expressed his exploration with his lips, as well, kissing along each of Will’s fingers, across his palm, and up his arm.

              _I adore you, every inch of you_.

              Will only breathed deeply in response, his heart glowing.

              He heard Hannibal’s stomach growl.

              Hannibal paused in his kisses, and brought a hand down to his abdomen.

              “Can you feel my hunger?”

              Will grinned at him and shook his head.

              “Not at all.”

              Hannibal sighed with relief, and slowly sat up.

              “Something that is still only me.” he said.

              Will rose with him, and without further conversation, they walked downstairs and heated up another of Hannibal’s meals.

              Will looked in surprise at the stack of empty plastic containers tossed haphazardly in or near the sink.  He hardly remembered eating most of them.

              He turned to Hannibal to ask him if his heat was over, and was greeted with a “Yes.” before he even opened his mouth.

              “How much time has passed, do you think?” one of them asked.  They both shrugged.

              They ate the meal over the kitchen counter, both utterly naked.

              “I have to look at your back, after this.” Will said.

              Hannibal nodded, and Will felt his concession, his agreement, and how loved he felt at being _fretted over_.

              “No one else will ever see this side of me.”

              Will allowed Hannibal to feel the full brunt of his possessiveness, then.

              _No one ever will_.

              He made it clear that even those who made the attempt would wind up dead, by Will’s hands.

              Hannibal practically batted his eyelashes at him, his cheeks flushing pink with adoration.

              “I am so in love.” they said. 

              “I know.” they replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some artistic liberties with Hannibal's childhood, in order to fit this AU and particular story better.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by the lovely [victorine](http://victorineb.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Come share your thoughts with me on my [tumblr](http://evenunevenme.tumblr.com/)!

              The pack of bikers rested lazily outside the diner, secure in their numbers and size for intimidation.  The only thing they feared was possibly another, rival pack; certainly the state trooper who sat on the other side of the street, watching, was of no concern to them.  The Alphas all wore sleeveless apparel, no doubt to display their muscles, while their omegas clung to them with adoring eyes, or concerned themselves with watching the mess of children that were climbing on top of the diner’s external oil tank as if it were a playground.

              Unruly and uncivilized, the type of people who probably never saw a doctor in their life; every one of them awakened.  Any of the Alphas in the pack would give them a worthy fight.  Any of them were uncouth and unpleasant; a blight on society, as well; and Will wasn’t sure which of those thoughts were his and which were Hannibal’s.  They all seemed right to him.

              _You may choose_ , Will commanded, his eyes fierce in the shaded darkness of the edge of the woods where they hid.

              Hannibal felt his bloodlust.  It was powerful.  Two weeks, and he was still entirely unused to the deluge that were Will’s emotions.  It was so easy to be overcome by them, and they were nearly impossible to think through.  Will, at least, had some experience with thinking through them, and for the first time in Hannibal’s life, he was _glad_ to relinquish control to another.  He allowed Will to fully fulfill his Alpha role, being the one to make decisions, to think for them, to decide how they would act.  Hannibal was, as of now, at least, in no place to do so.  He could barely find his footing.

              They had tried to stay in the house, but the need to hunt between the two of them was unbearably powerful.  They already had more meat than they could ever consume.  Hannibal found himself resorting to older methods of getting rid of bodies.  Burning, grinding, burying in remote places.

              _Focus_ Will commanded.  Hannibal’s attention snapped back to the pack of prey.

              One of the Alphas rose from the side of the diner and wandered towards the edge of the woods, about twenty feet away from them.  He was young and muscular, though he was old enough to have a long beard that reached to his chest.  From the scent of him, he wasn’t mated.  That meant none of the omegas that had been clinging to him were his bonded.  His death would be his alone.

              The decision to move was both of theirs.  They slithered silently among the trees, moving so they were on opposite sides of him, waiting for the Alpha to finish relieving himself.  Will’s nostrils burned at the smell of his urine.  His desire to fight grew triple-fold.

              Across from him, Wil caught a glimpse of Hannibal’s grin.

              No one but him would ever see that grin and live, and it made his heart flutter.

              The Alpha zipped himself up, and Hannibal wandered in front of him, looking helpless and, from Will’s point of view, exceptionally delicious.

              “Where did you come from, sweet thing?” the Alpha said, moving towards Hannibal. 

              “I’m on a road trip with my family.” he said, Will’s ears burning at how he made his voice sound so small and helpless.  “I think I’m lost…do you know which way to the diner?”

              “Sure, darlin’.” the Alpha said.  “But they’re not a very good family if they lose you so easily, are they?  I take much better care of my omegas.  I’ll bet I could take much better care of you.”

              Hannibal’s wide eyes of fear were a perfect imitation of one of Will’s expressions.  He took steps back slowly, leading the Alpha to follow him deeper into the woods, further from his pack.  The Alpha stalked him, raking his eyes up and down over Hannibal’s body.  Will tried to control the flare of protective emotions that raged through him.  Hannibal didn’t need that distraction, just now.

              When Hannibal had led him sufficiently deep into the trees, out of sight of the diner, he caught his back on a tree trunk and leaned up against it.  The Alpha’s eyes raked over the hideous, vicious bite mark on his neck, the bruises surrounding it still yellow and fading.

              “It looks like your Alpha is rough with you.” he said.  “I’d take so much better care.  I’d be gentle.  Never hurt you.  Protect you.”

              Hannibal’s expression of fear was so realistic looking Will had to struggle not to laugh at the contrast between it and his actual emotion of placid anticipation.

              “Just because you’re bonded doesn’t mean you have to live with him.” he said, stepping forward until he crowded around Hannibal’s body.  “I’ve got plenty of omegas under my care.  I’d treat you right. Never be violent with you, never hurt you.”

              Hannibal’s helpless expression melted away to reveal a vicious, maniacal sneer.

              “Too bad for you.” Hannibal said, his voice chillingly calm, the expressions on his face vanishing  to reveal…nothing.  “I like him that way.”

              Will’s blade was swift, and he aimed for the face.  In the same instant, Hannibal stabbed him in the kneecap.  Neither attack was meant to kill.  They wanted the thrill of the fight.

               The Alpha screamed with rage and pain, and turned to swing a hand up, instinctively protecting his face, though not stopping the knife from grazing his cheek.  He lunged forward mindlessly, his hand reaching for the gun at his hip.

              Hannibal’s deft fingers snatched it from his holster before he could.  He turned to Hannibal with surprise, finding a playful grin on Hannibal’s face, now.  He was learning the joy of facial expression, and how much _fun_ it was to use it to manipulate.  He tossed the gun far into the woods, and the distraction gave Will the opening he wanted to slice across the Alpha’s gut.

              His thick leather jacket protected him, making the cut shallow.  He turned to Will with rage, nostrils flaring at the scent of another Alpha.  He swung, his enormous fist coming close to Will’s face, but he ducked, and watched the Alpha’s eyes grow wide as Hannibal’s knife plunged deep into his shoulderblade from behind.

              His elbow was quick, finding Hannibal’s ribcage, sending him sprawling back.  Will’s reply was a deep stab to his abdomen, the blood oozing out between the material, flowing forth when he removed the blade.  Hannibal was back on his feet; his hand around the hilt of his knife buried in the Alpha’s shoulder.  Their eyes met and they moved as one; Hannibal pulling as Will stabbed, then Will pulling as Hannibal stabbed; one attacking his stomach, the other his back.

              He never had a chance to respond, always having a blade being driven into his body, the pain overriding whatever fighting skills he may have had.  They stepped back after fifty-six stabs, twenty-three each, and watched the behemoth fall to the ground, all three of them soaked in his blood.

              Will looked out from behind his blood-splattered face, nostrils flaring from effort, mouth slightly agape as he panted, and his eyes met his equally bloody lover.  They grinned.

              The commotion had attracted the attention of the rest of the pack, who were coming, storming through the trees in a rage.

              They retreated deeper into the woods, traveling through it quietly, both using Will’s skills as a woodsman to take the quickest and most silent path down the highway and back to their car.  They tossed their bloodied knives into the trunk and removed their shirts, wiping their faces quickly before any cars came down the road.  They tossed on new shirts and got into the car, where Will called upon Hannibal’s calmness to keep himself driving the speed limit as they passed the flashing lights of state troopers going in the other direction. 

              Hannibal sighed and looked over at Will dreamily.

              Will reached out and stroked his fingers through his hair.

              They passed the road sign, _Thank you for Visiting Ohio,_ and headed back home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

              They lay in bed, Will’s back leaning against the headboard, Hannibal curled into Will’s chest, Will’s fingers stroking gently through his hair.

              They had begun a new set of conversations, this way.  No longer separated by space or the ability to deceive each other, their conversations had changed from a vicious game of power play to a warm, fertile ground on which to grow closer.

              “Bedelia was not awakened when you slept with her.” Will said, lifting the glass of brandy to his lips. 

              “She is not awakened, even now.” Hannibal replied, stroking his fingers lazily over the scar on Will’s abdomen.

              “Yet you know she would be an Alpha, if she was.” he replied.  Hannibal could feel his jealousy.  His bitterness; his anger.  There was no way for him to hide it.  There was no _point_ to hiding it.

              “I was attracted to her for that, and many other reasons.”

              Will snorted.

              “You use ‘attracted’ in the thinnest sense of the word.”

              Hannibal shrugged.  It was one of many of Will’s emotional gestures he had picked up on.  It was very useful, at times.

              “Her presence mildly soothed the deep ache in myself caused by your rejection and absence.”

              Will couldn’t hide his guilt, either. 

              Hannibal turned and nuzzled his nose into his neck to comfort. 

              “I do not hold it against you.”

              “I know.” Will replied. 

              “Just as you do not hold my time with her against me.” Hannibal replied softly, almost, _almost_ verbalizing his need to ask forgiveness.  But of course, he didn’t actually have to.

              “I don’t.” Will said, continuing to stroke his hair.  Dark emotions still roiled through him, and he watched Hannibal’s face as he tried to understand them all.  “But I do hold it against _her_.”

              He felt Hannibal’s delight well up out of the darkness like a bubble released from the depths of the sea.

              “Please, I have desired to taste her for _so_ long…” Hannibal practically begged.  
              Will placed a finger under Hannibal’s chin and lifted his cheek to press against his lips.

              “Let’s go visit Dr. Du Maurier.”

             

              When Bedelia heard the doorbell of her California home ring, the only reason she hadn’t expected it to be them was because it was still daylight.  She had, for some reason, assumed they would show up in the dark.

              The surprise on her face when she opened the door was easily masked by a sly smile and the lift of a wineglass to her lips.

              The daylight did nothing at all to lessen the impact of seeing two monsters on her doorstep.

              “Will.” she said, with a slight bow of her head, making sure to address him first.  “Hannibal.”

              “Bedelia.” Will replied.  “We apologize for dropping in on you unannounced, but, well.  We feared you would run otherwise.”

              Bedelia forced herself to meet Will’s gaze, even though it was searingly terrifying.  In his eyes she saw what Hannibal had never dared to show through the cover of his person-suit.  She remained perfectly calm on the outside; but saw Hannibal inhale, just slightly, and knew he smelled her fear.

              She also knew it was absolutely futile to run; such an act would ensure her death; but if she played with them well enough, perhaps she could find a way to escape.

              “Well, I wouldn’t want to be rude, considering you’ve traveled all this way.  Won’t you come in.”

              She stepped aside and held the door open, keeping her face towards them, as if that would make any difference.  She closed it softly, shutting the darkness that had entered her home safely in, sealing them all from the outside world.

              She walked over to the wine cabinet and pulled two clean glasses from the rack where they hung upside-down.  She walked over to the dining room table and set them down, then went back to the cabinet, watching them, trying to get a handle on the situation.

              With every single movement she made, both of their heads followed her with the exact same motions.  They both stood frighteningly still; as still as Hannibal had ever stood, the only difference in their posture being that Hannibal’s hands were folded behind his back, while Will’s fell to his sides.

              Hannibal was dressed as usual in a beige three-piece suit with a burgundy tie; utterly absurd for the hot southern California weather.  Will was equally inappropriately dressed; wearing tan slacks and a long-sleeve button-down collared shirt.  It was not plaid.  She made note of that, reminding herself that _this_ relationship was not going to fit a single stereotype or expectation.

              “Do you have a preference?” she asked them, gesturing at her collection of wines, ranging from fine to cheap.

              They both cocked their heads to the left.  It was extremely unsettling.

              “Hannibal will select what we are drinking after he decides on the menu.” Will said.

              The tremble in Bedelia’s hand gave her away, shaking her glass so forcefully it would have spilled, had it been more full.

              “Yes, of course.” she said, trying to put strength into her voice.  She kept her distance, but forced herself to look into Hannibal’s face.  It looked like the same emotionless face she was so used to, and that terrified her more than anything.

              “Won’t you help yourself to my kitchen, Hannibal?  I know it isn’t as well-equipped as you are used to, but I’m sure a chef as fine as yourself can make do.”

              A grin split between his lips, spreading wide and bright until his teeth showed.  It was so absurd to see on _his_ face; an expression she hadn’t thought him even capable of, that she found herself staring.  It was _genuine_.

              “It is rude to stare, Bedelia.” Will said.

              “I wasn’t staring.  I was…admiring, how much you’ve changed, Hannibal.  There is a new glow to your skin.”

              It was a common compliment given to newly bonded pairs, akin to congratulating a beta groom after his wedding.  Utterly polite.

              “Thank you, Bedelia.” he said.  “It’s good to see you as well.”

              Hearing Hannibal use a contraction was somehow more eerie than any of the other changes she’d noticed so far.  Her knees wobbled and threatened to give out on her.

              “Forgive me for taking a seat.” she said.  “I’ve had a long day.”

              She managed to settle herself into an armchair well enough to not appear like she was fainting, she hoped.  It wouldn’t do to look weak.

              Will sat across from her, on the loveseat opposite the coffee table.  Hannibal then disappeared from her view, and she heard the cabinets in her kitchen beginning to open and close.

              She turned her head slowly to face Will, her eyes boring into him with accusation.

              “Did you know?” she asked, reaching over to clasp the open bottle of wine she’d been drinking, pouring it into her cup.  When she set it down she didn’t bother to use the coaster.  Life was short, after all.

              His eyes, which once had been flighty and unsure, pierced through her defenses and sent a chill down her spine.  Or perhaps it was the fact that the rest of his face hadn’t molded into a single expression since they’d arrived.

              Then, with deliberate intent, Will lifted the bottle of wine and moved it a few inches to the left, to set it down up on a coaster.  Her blood turned cold.

              “Forgive me, but you’ll have to clarify.” Will said.  “I can only know Hannibal’s thoughts; not yours.”

              She took a long, thick swallow of her wine, leaned back, and crossed her legs.

              “During our last conversation.” she replied.  “You told me you didn’t intend for Hannibal to escape.  There were several ways to take that; now I’m wondering exactly what you meant.”

              Oh, she was smart.  Hinting at the fact that Will possibly had intended to _kill_ Hannibal, rather than set him free.  The kitchen was within perfect earshot of them.  Hannibal would hear every word.

              Will felt Hannibal’s absolute delight at Bedelia’s attempt to wedge between them.  He almost laughed.  Will knew he was smiling to himself as he set a cutting board on the counter and began to chop.

              “I didn’t know I was an Alpha, no.” Will said.  “My intent at the time was to kill him.  But he had me capture him in a much more romantic way.”

              Her expression was frozen stone at his flat out admission.  There would be no coming between them.  Not now. 

              “So you learned on the cliff.” she said.  “It’s unusual for the media to report an event exactly as it occurred.”

              Will’s stone-still face suddenly exploded with emotion.  He laughed, and it was real, and deep, and genuine.  The smile he made was _so_ much like the old Will that for a moment she believed he might still be in there; a law enforcement officer, a creature she could beg to for mercy or for help.

              “Trust me, whatever you read or watched from media coverage has it all wrong.” he said.  He leaned back, relaxing into the couch, lacing his fingers behind his head.  He moved with ease; none of the awkward fumbling of the old Will Graham present at all.  She noticed, then, that he had a scar on his right cheek, mostly hidden underneath his not-quite-neatly-trimmed beard.

              “I don’t suppose you’ll grace me with the accurate account?” she asked.  He looked at her, eyes bright and _joyful_ , the way any newly bonded Alpha would look when bragging about his recently acquired mate.

              “Why not?” he said.  “I think I’ll have a glass of wine after all.”

              He rose and walked past her to head towards the wine cabinet.  She glanced at the front door, a mere six feet away, suddenly now with no one between her and it.  She waited until Will’s attention was on the wine bottles, set her glass down carefully, and raced for the door.

              She had it halfway open when Will’s palm slammed it shut, fingers splayed wide on the wood in front of her face.

              “That was a very stupid thing to do.” he snarled, and in his voice she heard every drop of evil that Hannibal never allowed into the light.  She wasn’t sure if she passed out from being knocked on the head or from fear alone.

 

              She had dreams of being hauled onto her table, flashes of looking up into first Will’s face, then Hannibal’s, then Will’s again.  There was a warm tingly feeling in her left leg, and then then feeling was gone.  There was blood, everywhere, and then it was gone.  When she finally awoke, she was wearing one of her best gowns, seated at the head of the table, completely dizzy, still drunk, with Will sitting a chair away from her.

              She tried to stand up, out of some kind of instinct.  He rose and his hands firmly pushed down on her shoulders, and she was glad he did so.  The room spun.  She couldn’t feel her left leg.

              Terrified, blood turning cold, she slid her hand down her thigh until she felt a bandaged stump.  She gasped with terror.

              “Where is my leg?”

              “In the oven.”

              He answered so matter-of-factly it took her a moment to even realize how horrible the statement was.

              “Why haven’t you killed me?” she croaked, both hopeful and terrified of the answer.  Will leaned down and whispered in her ear.

              “I wanted to.”

              He left her and sat back down in his seat, lifting the glass of wine he’d apparently gotten for himself.  He took a slow, deliberate sip, watching her, head cocked to the side _exactly_ in the mannerism of Hannibal.

              It was downright creepy.

              “Then why am I alive?” she managed.

              Will traced his fingers around the bottom of his glass.

              “Hannibal wanted to resume his therapy with you.”  
              She couldn’t help it; she gaped.

              “What?”

              “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t allow it.  He’s mine.”

              The way he said it was utterly possessive.  How nobody but Hannibal had seen Will’s true Alpha nature was beyond her.  It fit him so easily. 

              “But we did come to a compromise.” Will said, lifting the wine glass to his lips again.  The motion made Bedelia wish for a sip herself.  She looked in front of her and saw a full wine glass, shrugged, and clasped at it.

              It was heavier than she’d expected, but she still managed to get it to her lips and take a long sip without spilling any.  Years of practice.

              “And what is that?” she asked, morbidly curious.

              “You will write a book, about Hannibal’s case.” Will said.  “A violent omega is an unusual subject; it will be good for your career.  In it, you’ll attest to how much he’s changed.  How he’s absolutely no longer a danger to society.”

              She snorted.

              “I was wondering when the two of you would pull me into your farce.”

              Will leaned forward and gave her a sarcastic smirk.

              “Are you upset we didn’t invite you to the trial, Bedelia?”

              She gave him a tight smile.

              “Yes.  Very.”

              “Well, this is your chance to participate.”

              The way he said the word, Bedelia knew then that he knew _everything_ about the time she and Hannibal had spent in Florence. 

              The fact that she was still alive became even more difficult to believe.

              Will tilted his head, as if listening, though Bedelia heard nothing.

              “Dinner is ready.”

              Bedelia turned when she saw the motion from the corner of her eye.  She watched Hannibal carry the ornate serving tray, that she did not own, which meant he must have brought it with him.  He set it upon the table, her leg wrapped in large, wide leaves, glazed in something that smelled of pineapples, surrounded by elaborate garnishes.  She heard his voice describing the dish, in his usual manner and timbre, sounding so _exactly_ like his old self it almost felt like she was back in Florence.  Her head swam from the wine and whatever they’d given her to keep her sedated, and it took her a long moment to realize they’d both disappeared into the kitchen.

              She glanced over to the side-table where her phone was charging.  It wasn’t within her reach; but given a bit of time, she would be able to stumble over to it.  She just needed a distraction. 

              She reached up onto the table to grab a fork and hide it in her lap.  She had no illusions about being able to fight them both off; but perhaps if she played against Will’s protective instincts, she could get him to overreact and make them lose their heads for a moment.  It was a dangerous gamble, but it was the only possible way out she could think of.

              When they emerged from the kitchen, Will first, followed by Hannibal, she lunged.  She jabbed the fork into Hannibal’s chest and lost her balance, drunk, drugged, and having only one leg.  She fell, and before she even hit the ground he caught her, holding her steady, gently moving her back into her seat.

              “Will, would you please get Bedelia another fork?  She has soiled this one.”

              He set her gently back into her seat, sat at his place, and plucked the fork from his chest.

              She sobbed.

              “Bedelia, please.  At the dinner table?”

              She glared at him.

              Will returned and placed a clean fork beside her plate.  He sat, and Hannibal began to serve.

              She remained silent as she watched him carve up her leg and place it delicately, in perfect, thin slices, on each of their plates; her first, then Will, then himself.

              He then served each plate with garnish, topped off by a lovely, fruity-scented gravy, and sat with a flourish.

              Blood seeped out of his wound, staining his white shirt.

              She turned to Will, desperate.

              “Don’t you want to care for his injury, first?”

              Will glanced up at Hannibal and gave him a doe-eyed, innocent, head-over-heels-in-love smile.

              “I’ve given him worse.  He’ll be fine.”

              Hannibal’s eyes lowered halfway in a flirtatious expression, his cheeks turning pink.  Her stomach churned at the sight.  The monster truly had found his other half.

              The two of them began to eat.

              Bedelia continued to cry; her silent tears streaming down her face, her brain wracking itself for any other ideas; for any way out, for any hope at all.

              She had nothing.  She was defeated.

              With a heavy sigh, she looked down at her plate, and realized her mouth was watering from how good it smelled.  She picked up her utensils and started to cut.  Closing her eyes and trying not to think about it, she took a bite and savored it, telling herself that if nothing else, at least Hannibal’s cooking was a thing to be enjoyed.

              She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, waiting.

              “It’s delicious, Hannibal.” she said.

              He smiled, bright and innocent and pure.  She’d never seen such an expression on his face. 

              “If nothing else, the two of you belong together.” she said.

              They grinned in unison.  The shiver went to all five of her toes.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

The tiny LED on the camera blinked over and over again as streams of photos were taken from the digital camera hiding in the thicker shrubs of the backyard garden.  Stills of Will and Hannibal as they relaxed in lawn chairs on the back patio; enough photos of Will rising to walk into the house to give the illusion of motion, then more as he returned, handing a glass of water to Hannibal, all without verbal conversation.

              It was obvious to Freddie even from that, that their claimed bond during the trial had been a complete farce—because now that the real thing stood before her eyes, it was undeniable.  While their outward appearances still seemed to reflect their individual personalities—Will wore navy canvas shorts and a white t-shirt, while Hannibal had on cream-colored suit slacks and a collared red polo shirt—their mannerisms were entirely different.

              Hannibal moved much more than she’d ever seen him; he could almost, perhaps, be called fidgety, while Will had a demeanor of calmness, making hardly any unnecessary movements at all.

              She zoomed in, focusing her lens on Hannibal’s features, snapping away, trying to capture the expressions on his face, which were _so_ many, and _so_ different from his old face that—

              “It’s rude to invade people’s privacy, Miss Lounds.”

              She yelped and dropped her camera, which bounced off the wood chips and rolled a few feet away.  She rose and turned slowly, until she was inches away from a face that, years ago when he was _not_ a murderer and _not_ bonded to Hannibal had made her terrified for her life.

              Still, she was not one to avoid looking someone directly in the eyes.

              Will, it seemed, had gotten entirely over his fear of that.

              “I was just doing a piece on how you and Hannibal have settled down.” she said, moving a hand up to adjust her curls out of habit, or nerves.

              His expression was absolute stone.  Hannibal’s expression.

              “In that case, why don’t you come inside?  You’ll get a much better story with a proper interview, don’t you agree?”

               She gave him a tight smile.

              “Do I have a choice?”

              The smile he returned was nothing short of creepy.

              “No.”

              She nodded curtly.

              “Alright, then.  Let me just…” she turned toward where her camera had landed.  It was gone.

              “He’s going through your photos now.  We may let you keep the ones we approve of.” Will said.  He lifted a hand and gestured towards the back door with a slight nod of his head.  She started walking slowly, careful to avoid stepping on the flowers, not wanting to add to her offenses, if that was possible. 

              “How did you know I was there?” she asked. 

              “Hannibal smelled you.”

              Her brow furrowed as Will slid open the back door and held it open for her.  He stepped in behind her and slid it shut gently, the soft click of the lock almost unnoticeable.  Almost.

              “When?” she asked.

              “Immediately, of course.” Hannibal said, walking into the room, holding the handles of a silver tea tray, set with three upside-down cups and a matching porcelain teapot.  He set it gently onto the coffee table in the sitting room and gestured for Freddie to sit.  She looked over to Will, whose expression was cold and dark.  Steeling her nerves, she walked to the couch Hannibal had motioned at and sat on the edge of it. 

              Will sat beside her, uncomfortably close, and Hannibal across from them.  He turned the teacups over and began filling each, then set one in front of each person, his motions as graceful as they had always been.

              “We may decide to give you a deal similar to the one we gave Bedelia Du Maurier.” Hannibal said, his voice utterly cordial and polite, almost to the point of cheerfulness.  “Though our minds haven’t been made up yet.”  He lifted the teacup to his lips and blew gently on the steam.

              “What deal is that?” Freddie asked, forcing her voice out level and calm over the lump of fear in her throat.

              “We will allow you to live.” Will said.

              “For a price, of course.” Hannibal finished.

              Her fingers tightened a bit harder around her hands folded in her lap.

              “Well, I helped you once, when you had an agenda, Will.  We worked well together, I think.  I don’t see why we shouldn’t be able to do that again.”

              Hannibal gave a fond smile.

              “Ah, yes.” his eyes flicked up to Will’s face and he blushed, a shy grin coming to his lips that looked absolutely out of place on the rest of his motionless expression.

              “You were Will’s very first hunt.” Hannibal said.  “We remember it fondly.  Except for the part where you sprayed paint in his eyes, but, well.  Lessons learned.”

              Freddie’s pale face nearly whitened as she realized Hannibal must have known, then, the level of her involvement in Will’s deception of him.

              “You told him about that?” she asked, disbelieving.

              Will cocked his head to the side, thinking.  “No, actually.  We haven’t talked about it.”

              Her confused face flicked back over to Hannibal.

              “Then how does he…”

              “Our bond is somewhat…unconventional.” Hannibal said, leaning back in his seat, appearing almost…relaxed.  Freddie’s eyes darted between their faces as she frowned.

              “You can actually read each other’s minds.” she inferred.  “Like every fairy tale, like Shakespeare’s plays.”

              Their grins were equally terrifying.

             

* * *

 

              While she’d been smart enough to guess the tea was drugged before she drank it, she was also smart enough to know better than to refuse it.  She’d put it to her lips and faked small swallows, but eventually Hannibal raised an eyebrow at her, eyeing the fact that the level in her cup hadn’t dropped.  Banking on the promise that they would let her live, she’d taken a few real sips, her last awareness being of Will gently slipping the teacup from her fingers to avoid it staining the furniture.

              She woke up in an enormous, overly-fluffy bed, the rays of sun long and orange through the window.  She sat up, dizzy and with a slight headache, dressed in nothing but a bathrobe.  She cursed when she realized that if they’d stripped her, then they’d found her taped microphone, and had probably already erased all of her hard-earned evidence.

              She stumbled to her feet and waited for a moment for her head to clear.  She was still a bit dizzy from whatever-it-was.  She walked towards the door and turned the knob.  It turned, but when she pulled, nothing happened.  It didn’t budge.  It didn’t even jostle.  She tugged harder, her eyes searching the heavy, carved oak.  The hinges weren’t visible.  Not that she had any tools to get them off if they were.

              Silently, hoping they thought she was still asleep, she searched the room.  First she went to the window, only to learn she was on the second floor, with nothing at all near the window that could be climbed upon.  She looked at it further and frowned when she realized it didn’t open.  It was almost as if this room had been carefully built for keeping a prisoner. 

              When she recalled that Hannibal had kept Abigail locked in his home for over a year, her blood turned cold.

              Not ready to give up, she started to search the room.  There was hardly anything in it.  There was a tall, antique, heavy wooden armoire, which was entirely empty but for the outfit she’d been wearing, pockets empty, freshly laundered.  She opened the drawers at the bottom and snorted when she found her bra and panties also freshly laundered and neatly folded, along with her socks.

              In the closet, also empty, she found her shoes.

              The only other thing in the room was a nightstand beside the bed, also completely empty, except for an old-fashioned alarm clock and a notecard folded beside it.  She opened it and found a message written in Will’s barely readable chicken scratch.

              “Dinner is at seven.  You may use the adjoining washroom to freshen up.  – W & H ”

              The handwriting was Will’s.  The words were Hannibal’s.  She dropped the notecard back onto the nightstand with a chill.  She couldn’t get the shower hot enough.

 

              At precisely seven, there came a knock on the door.

              “Come in.” she forced herself to say.  Politeness.  They valued politeness.  Not that Freddie Lounds was one to bend to the rules of others, but when you were being held prisoner by serial killers, well.  One could make exceptions.

              The door opened and it was Will.  She rose from her seat on the bed, re-dressed in her own clothes, and did her best to hide her fear when she looked into his face and smiled.

              “I have to admit, I’m rather excited to get an exclusive peek into the lives of Will and Hannibal Lecter-Graham.” she said. 

              He snorted with disgust.

              “You’re only alive because killing you right after our trial would be too obvious.” he said.  In his voice she heard his disdain for her.  _His_ disdain; Will Graham’s disdain.  Hannibal had never had such strong feelings towards her.  That she could see, anyway.

              “Well I’m glad to be alive, whatever the reason.” she said, patting a hand over her curls.  She hadn’t had the proper tools to take care of her hair after the shower.  It was a bit too frizzy for her taste.

              “We are still contemplating how best to make you suffer.” Will replied.  “Until then, you will live in Abigail’s quarters.  Please don’t try to run.  I’m already struggling not to kill you, and blood on the furniture would make him upset.”

              His eyes were so dark when he said it that she nodded, a bit too meekly for her liking.

              He stepped aside and gestured for her to walk through the door.  She did so, but had no idea where she was.

              “To your left, please.” he said, and she turned and walked.  “Down the stairs.”

              Following Will’s vocal directions, very aware of how close he was following behind her, she made her way downstairs and to the dining room.  He pulled out a chair for her and she sat at a table set for three.  The aroma coming from the kitchen was mouth-watering.

              “So.” she said, not passing up the greatest opportunity for a story of her life, if she kept it, “Who are we having for dinner tonight?”

              Will’s smile was unsettlingly delighted.  It reached his eyes and showed a peek of his teeth, and even a light pink blush grazed his cheeks above his beard.

              “Hannibal killed this one entirely out of passion.  He held nothing back at all.  There weren’t any organs left unmaimed after, so we’re having flank.”

              The absolute adoration in his voice was what unnerved her.  Had he said such a sentence in order to try to get to her, it wouldn’t have.  But he’d said it so _sincerely_ , with depth and real affection, that there was no hiding from the fact that he was different.

              “You are completely changed, Will.” she said.  He grinned.

              “Thank you.”

              Well, at least that had gotten her on his good side.

              “How is it, being bonded to Hannibal?”

              “Heaven.”  he responded, as if that wasn’t the most cliché answer a newly-bonded could give.

              She would have chosen a different word that started with H. 

              “How long has it been, now?” she asked, fiddling with the end of a fork set on the table.  She briefly considered trying to use it as a weapon, remembered how Will had overpowered her and dragged her from her car by the neck, then gave up that idea.

              She wasn’t going to get out of this by physical altercation.

              “About two months.” he replied.

              She nodded.

              “Still very fresh.”

              His grin grew wider.  The chills in her spine grew colder.

              Might as well keep the small talk going.  It was what she was best at, after all.

              “You seem to have picked up a lot of his traits.”

              Will laughed, and as if to spite what she’d just said, it was almost exactly like his old laugh, except free of the deep sarcasm he used to carry with him.

              “Probably less than you think.”

              She quirked a smile at him.

              “You say ‘please’ now.”

              He shook his head, still smiling.

              “Okay, yeah, that’s him.”

              He fiddled with the bottom of his empty wine glass, tracing his fingers around the base.  He had a look of being utterly, totally in love; the kind she’d seen on newly-bonded faces hundreds of times before.  It almost appeared…normal.

              “So do you enjoy human meat, now?”

              His eyes flashed up to meet hers, his smile not fading at all.

              “I’ve always enjoyed Hannibal’s cooking.”

              He was dodging the question.  She knew how to handle _that_.  She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, folding her hands under her chin.

              “I meant do you prefer it, now.  Over other types of meat.  The way he does.”

              Will seemed to seriously contemplate her question.  His eyes darted to the wall behind her, thinking, a slight furrow coming to his brow.

              “I don’t think I have a preference.” he said.  “I’ll eat whatever Hannibal wants to cook.”

              Encouraged that perhaps the good part of Will Graham was still in there, she pressed further.

              “Don’t you mean he’ll cook whatever it is you want to eat?” she asked.  “You are the Alpha, after all.  If you wanted, for example, him to stop killing people, then wouldn’t he be just as satisfied to cook animals for you?”

              Will laughed.

              “Where’s the fun in that?” he replied.  She pressed her lips into a tight line and tried a more direct approach.

              “Wouldn’t it sit better with you, if he wasn’t killing people?  You were an FBI agent, after all…”

              “Darling Freddie,” Will said, in a tone that was entirely Hannibal’s, “I hunt with Hannibal on every one of our kills.  I deeply enjoy killing with him.”

              She had to pause for a moment to let her racing heart slow a bit before speaking again.

              “Well, his emotions must be strong in you because you’re newly bonded, but think about after time…”

              His eyes lowered to burn into her face, dark and searing.

              “I always enjoyed it.”

              His voice was low and raspy.  She recalled him finding her in his barn, all those years ago, on his property in Wolf Trap.  His face _then_.  With no bond.

              Dawning fell upon her.

              “You were always a murderer.” she whispered. 

              His smile was wide and creepy.

              “That’s why he chose you.”

              His smile split into a grin.

              “You are actually very insightful, when you pay attention, Miss Lounds.” Hannibal’s voice said, drifting to them from the doorway.

              She snapped her head away from Will to see Hannibal entering the room, carrying a large silver tray, decorated with a beautifully carved ‘steak’.

              “All this time, I thought you had tricked him.” Freddie admitted, watching with fascinated horror as Hannibal served them whoever-it-was that was steaming from the pool of marinade on the tray.

              “Hardly.” Hannibal said.  “I tried that, at first.” he admitted.  “But Will is more stubborn than even I had given him credit for.”

              Will gave Hannibal a flirtatious glance and tilted his face up.  Hannibal responded by leaning down to plant a soft kiss to his lips, before pulling away and continuing to serve dinner as if there had not been an interruption.

              As horrified as she was, her reporter’s curiosity got the best of her.  If she lived, this was going to be the story of her life, and she wasn’t about to waste a good opportunity.

              “Tell me.  Tell me about your courtship.” she said.

              The fond gaze they both gave each other almost made her sick.

              “It’s quite simple, really.” Hannibal said.  “I saw Will kill Mr. Hobbs.  Smelled his pleasure at doing so.  Knew I had to have him.  Did everything I could think of, but it was easier to make Will realize he was a killer than it was to make him realize he was an Alpha.”

              “Until I saw you in danger.” Will breathed.  The way they were looking at each other, she fully expected them to start making out right on top of the table. 

              She cleared her throat.

              They both turned their heads to her in the exact same manner, and gave her the exact same glare.

              “You are our guest, until we decide what to do with you.” Hannibal said, sitting himself properly in his seat and taking up his silverware.  “However, if you do not behave, you will be accommodated in the basement, rather than in the guest suite.”

              She stared down at her plate and considered what exactly that might mean.

              “It’s where we butcher the pigs.” Will said softly, and she nodded, pressing her lips together tightly to keep everything she wanted to say, in.

              “I understand.” she replied, and though it was difficult, said nothing else.

              “Now please try the Steak Gaucho.  I do believe you will enjoy it.”             

* * *

Jack sat at a desk drowning in papers.  Stacks over a foot high, covered with more papers, files, notebooks, binders.  Photos of crime scenes peeked out here and there.  In his hand was the transcript from the trial.  He frowned.

              “How did they do it?” he asked no one, furrowing his brow deeply.  “How did Will know Hannibal was in danger from an Alpha…”

              The throat-clearing sound was even louder, loud enough to jar Jack from his thoughts and pay attention to it.  He looked up to see his boss, Kade Purnell.

              “Jack.”

              “Hi, Kade.  What can I do for you?”

              She went to sit down, but the pile of papers made her unable to see Jack’s face.  So she rose again.

              “You can start by explaining to me why you haven’t solved a single case in months.”

              He waved his hands.

              “The juniors are working on those.  I’m entirely focused on Will and Hann…”

              “Jack, that case is closed.”

              He rose, planting the transcript onto his desk, causing piles of papers to shift, threatening to spill over onto the floor.

              “There is a serial killer and his hostage loose, free, in our city, and you’re considering the case _closed_?”

              “Hannibal was already convicted of his crimes.  Then exonerated.”

              “Of his _past_ crimes!  Look, look at this!  A biker, slaughtered in the woods like an animal!  A jewelry store clerk gone missing, and guess who visited her store that day?  Guess?”

              Purnell stared at Jack with an expression of stone, and perhaps behind her eyes, even a little pity.

              “When was the last time you shaved, Jack?” she asked.

              He looked appalled.

              “Shaved?  I have important work to do!  I have to solve this case!  I’m gathering _proof_ …”

              “Jack, the case is already solved.  I’ve been asking you for months now to let it rest.  You’ve ignored my every order.  You’ve neglected all your other cases and duties.  The juniors?  They’ve complained to me multiple times that they feel they’re on their own, without direction.  That’s dangerous, Jack.”

              “So find them someone else to direct them, I’ve…”

              “I have.” she said.  He paused, not because of the words, but because of her tone.

              “Your replacement begins on Monday.  You have the rest of the week to pack up your things.”

              His eyes grew wide.

              “You’re _firing_ me?”

              “You will be given the choice to accept early retirement, given the excellent service you’ve given the FBI over your career.”

              “Purnell…Kade…please, you can’t, not now, not when I’m _this close!_ ”

              “It’s over, Jack.  Let it be.”

              She walked out of his office with sorrow in her eyes.  It seemed Hannibal Lecter had claimed one more victim after all, even if he was now reformed.

 

              Freddie Lounds was missing.  No one had heard from her in over a week.  She hadn’t reported to work.  She hadn’t posted a single article.  It was extremely unlike her, and Jack knew exactly where she was.

              He might have been fired, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t connect the dots.  It also didn’t mean Hannibal and Will _knew_ he’d been fired.

              He patted his side-arm carefully one more time as he walked up the steps to Hannibal’s house.  He was aware of how dangerous this was, walking directly into Hannibal’s house, without backup.  He remembered what had happened last time.

              But if Freddie was in danger, it was his duty to save her, even if he was no longer an FBI agent.

              He pounded on the door.

              Will answered.  His Alpha scent was _strong_ , now; he had fully blossomed in his awakening, and his hackles raised immediately at the challenger on his doorstep.

              “Jack.”

              “Will.” he took a deep breath and ran over the story he’d practiced in his mind one last time.  “Freddie Lounds has gone missing, and we’re conducting interviews with everyone she knew, to see…”

              Will stepped aside and held the door open.

              “Won’t you come in, Jack.”

              Had he not been so focused on his mission, he might have caught the out-of-place tone in Will’s voice.  Hannibal’s tone.

              The door closed behind him with a soft click.  Then a second click. 

              “Worried about keeping out the riffraff?” he asked, trying to stay casual, keep the tone light-hearted.  He didn’t want them to think they were suspects.

              “No.  It’s for keeping people in.”

              Jack stared at Will with scrutiny.

              “Is he holding you here against your will?  Are you in danger, Will?  Tell me, and I’ll get you out of here.”

              Will’s expression was completely blank.

              “Stubborn until the end.”

              Hannibal’s voice was pleasant, almost gleeful.  He stepped into the foyer, and Jack’s eyes fell to the hideous bite mark that covered his neck.  Though it was mostly healed, it was clear that it had been much deeper than the previous one.  Almost as if the teeth had been sunk into his flesh for _hours_.

              Jack’s eyes darted back to Will.

              “He’s had his heat since the trial.”

              The grin that spread across Will’s face was at once brilliant and dark. 

              “Welcome to our home, Jack.” they said, in perfect unison.

              The blow to his head came from Will, and so he hadn’t expected it. 

 

              He’d woken up lying on a large, fluffy bed in what looked to be a guest room.  In it there was nothing but a bed, an armoire, and a nightstand.  He rose and searched it, trying to find a way out, only to discover that the window didn’t open, and if it had, there was nothing near it to climb down from.  He opened the armoire to find it containing one set of pajamas, freshly laundered; from the silk, probably Hannibal’s.  Other than that it was empty; along with the closet. His side-arm was gone, along with his phone and anything else that could possibly be useful; they even took his watch.

              The only other thing in the room was a nightstand beside the bed, also completely empty, except for an old-fashioned alarm clock and a notecard folded beside it.  He opened it and found a message written in Will’s barely readable chicken scratch.

              “Dinner is at seven.  You may use the adjoining washroom to freshen up.  – W & H ”

 

* * *

 

              Will sat on the edge of their bed in his usual t-shirt and boxers, while Hannibal kneeled behind him in his silk pajamas and combed his fingers gently through his hair, trying to coax the tenseness from his mate. His fingers stroking gently along his scalp sent pleasant tingles across Will’s skin and he closed his eyes, feeling his breath wash over his neck.

              In that breath, Will scented arousal.  His body responded immediately, and a soft, purrish growl left his lips, though his mind was still entirely preoccupied by Jack.

              “Are you enjoying Jack Crawford’s presence?” he accused, the bitterness in his voice ringing clear in his emotions.  It was already abundantly clear to Hannibal that Will distressed by Jack’s presence in their house.

              Hannibal considered his words carefully.

              “It has been a long time since I’ve had captives.  Abigail was years ago…”

              In Hannibal’s memory, Will felt his fondness of her, and a longing for her, a melancholiness at her loss.  Reflexively, Will emitted comforting hormones, along with a gentle purr.

              “…and she was a different case.” Hannibal said, not needing to explain why, his fingers still caressing through Will’s hair, toying adoringly with the curls.

              “The last true captive I held was Miriam Lass.” Hannibal said, and in him, Will felt his twisted delight at simultaneously being the source of her torture, her fear, her comfort, and her provider.  Will closed his eyes and remembered sawing off her arm, keeping her precariously on the edge between consciousness and sleep, so that she would have as fond a memory as possible of her arm being removed.

               The memory in Will’s mind sent the emotions to Hannibal in waves, and Will had no doubt he was remembering the same moment.  Hannibal sank from up on his knees, his thighs spreading to pull Will’s ass in between his legs.  His hands slid down Will’s sides to wrap around his stomach and press their bodies close together.  Hannibal let out a long, desirous purr into Will’s ear, and with it, Will smelled Hannibal’s slick, his readiness.

              Heat flushed to his cheeks and he leaned his head back to fall on Hannibal’s shoulder, relaxing against his will, still trying to cling to his hatred of Jack Crawford.

              “What did you want to do with this one?” he cooed, half-closed eyes searching over Hannibal’s face.  On it, he saw flashes of expression, though they paled in comparison to the thick waves of pleasure and desire that rolled from Hannibal into him.

              Hannibal nuzzled his face into Will’s neck, inhaling deeply, his arms tightening around Will’s waist.

              “I’d love to feed him a part of himself.” he said, and Will felt his vulnerability when he said it.  As much as he accepted himself, a lifetime of having to keep who he was secret still made him shy to admit it out loud, with plain words.  Will’s instinct to comfort became his prominent emotion and he turned to pull Hannibal into his arms.  He came, already open and vulnerable, and allowed his omegan desire to be held and protected to show, in the safety of their bedroom, when they were alone.

              Will stroked his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, now, as he cradled his head into the crook of his neck and wrapped his arm tightly around his back.

              “But I know we will never silence Jack the way we could Bedelia.  He has no sense of self-preservation; an admirable, if not frustrating, trait.”

              Will sent Hannibal his agreement, without bothering to speak.  He made other use of his lips, pressing gentle kisses to the side of Hannibal’s face.

              “So if we cannot break his body,” Hannibal continued, “We should break his mind.  He has, in fact, already laid the groundwork for us.”

              Hannibal felt Will’s hatred of Jack Crawford boil to the surface and appear on his lips in the form of a sneer.

              “Do to him what he did to us.” he said.  His agreement was strong, his delight powerful.

“We do have a good friend who runs a very reputable asylum, who owes us more than a few favors, if she continues to value her family’s life.” Will said.

              He felt Hannibal’s sick delight coil within him, and watched it spread into the new grin that he was becoming accustomed to on Hannibal’s face.

              “Your mind is deviously beautiful.” Hannibal replied, tilting his face up into Will’s kisses.  He moved so that Will’s next kiss planted on his lips, and there they stayed, gentle caresses and light tastes of each other, breathing each other in, enjoying each other’s closeness.

              Hannibal lifted up his fingers to stroke them along Will’s cheek with utter tenderness.  “How shall we torment the man who has caused you so much distress?”

              At the thought of the things Jack had done to him, Will bared his teeth and let out a long, low growl. 

              “Make him see who we really are.” Will said.  “Make him… _experience_ us.”

              Hannibal purred with affection at the emotions of hatred and revenge that swirled inside Will.  His tongue traced along the outside of Will’s ear before he spoke softly, his lips brushing against it.

              “I don’t think anyone can know us the way we do, Will.”

              Will sneered with powerful emotions of possessiveness then, and Hannibal purred with enjoyment.

              “No.” Will agreed.  “But if we _display_ for him, go over the top, put on the outside a pale reflection of the inside, he’ll still know _enough_.”

              Hannibal was getting used to the emotions that constantly rampaged through Will; but in a moment like this, he was still overwhelmed into just _feeling_ them, unable to think.  They were beautiful; his anger, his hatred, his revulsion of Jack, and his ferocious possessiveness, affection, and desire for Hannibal; all of them at once, all together, in tidal waves that drowned him and twisted his face into the tortured expressions he so frequently wore.

              Hannibal let Will’s hatred for Jack wash over him and flow away, and then clasped onto his affection.  He moved his lips forward to press against Will’s cheek and echoed the affection back to him, purring, tender.

              “You asked me what I would like to do with him.  But this is not my revenge, Will.  This is yours.  We will do to him whatever you need done; and if that means rending his limbs from his body while he screams, then we shall do so, and then make our home elsewhere.”

              Will’s bottom lip quivered, and Hannibal felt the tidal wave of affection crash over him.

              “How is it that you, a man who cares for no one but himself, loves me, a man who no one else loves?”

              Hannibal moved back to Will’s ear and gently bit down on it, scraping his teeth over the shell, allowing his tongue to emerge and lick along the tender place he left behind.  Finally, _finally_ , Will responded, breathing in the desirous pheromones Hannibal had by now permeated the room with.

              “Because you are my Alpha.” Hannibal breathed.  “Of all my desires, to please you is my strongest.  Even above my desire to, say, devour Jack.” he said.   

              Will breathed in a strong inhale of the scent of Hannibal’s slick, and he was finally done talking.  He pushed Hannibal back to lie on the bed and crushed him down with his body, eliciting waves of excitement from Hannibal.  Will’s lips left his face and wandered down his neck, where he kissed over his bite mark.  Hannibal let out a deep groan and spread his legs, eager, waiting.

              Will rose to straddle Hannibal’s hips, cheeks flushed, ears pink.  His fingers languidly undid the buttons on Hannibal’s silk top, pushing the fabric away, revealing the flushed skin of his chest.  He gazed up at Will with half-lidded eyes and obediently helped him remove the cloth.  Then Will’s lips were back, kissing over his bite mark, Hannibal’s hands reaching up to stroke through his hair.  He moved down his chest slowly, leaving little nips on his skin now and then, other times letting his tongue dart out to taste.

              He reached Hannibal’s left nipple and sucked it into his mouth, delighted at the groan that vibrated out from his chest.  He teased it, lapping at it with his tongue, then sealing his lips to suck, grazing his teeth over the hardened pink nub.  When he had Hannibal sufficiently squirming beneath him, he released it and moved to suck the other, gnawing gently at it until Hannibal was a writhing mess beneath him.  Will gave his nipple a few more heavy licks, then ground his cock down hard between his legs, nothing but thin pajamas between them.

              Hannibal whined and lifted his knees, spreading himself open and prone for his Alpha to take.  Will purred and rose, his hands gentle but firm as they slid down into the waist of Hannibal’s pajama bottoms.  He tugged, and Hannibal raised his hips to eagerly allow himself to be undressed.

              Will took one glance at his prone, eager mate, and disposed of his own clothes without preamble.  He pushed his folded knees under Hannibal’s ass, lifting him off the bed.  He whined again, the sound shattering the civilized part of Will’s mind. 

              “Fuck, you are beautiful.” he said through flushed pants.  He lifted Hannibal’s legs to drape them over his shoulder, rose, and slid his cock in where it belonged.  Hannibal whined and tilted his head back, and Will growled, low and feral.  Without hesitation he fucked, slow and steady, Hannibal’s eager hole clenching and sucking him in.  Will’s eyes fluttered closed from pleasure and he growled softly, his cock surrounded by hot flesh, being stroked on every side and squeezed with the exact right amount of pressure.

              “You were made for this.” Will cooed.  “Made to take me.”

              He felt Hannibal’s deep elation at the words.  His hands fumbled for Will, reaching towards him, and Will laced their fingers together and crushed Hannibal’s hands to the bed, palm-up.  Surrendering to the helplessness that he so enjoyed, but would never, ever admit to, Hannibal became a purring, whining puddle beneath Will. 

              “I love seeing you this way.” Will encouraged, and Hannibal’s response was to give him another delightful whine.

              The heat built and built as Will fucked, collecting from every inch in Will’s body to coil in his balls and cock.  It swelled and his knot started to grow, rising up from the base and expanding, stretching Hannibal’s hole wider with every thrust.

              He whined with pleasure every time Will pushed it in, the noises coming from him growing louder and more feral.  When it reached Will’s tip, feeling like a tease, he held himself just at Hannibal’s entrance, stretching him, keeping him wide, wide open.  Hannibal had no words, his hands trying to fumble but Will kept them pinned to the bed; his mouth trying to speak, but all that came out were whines.

              “Please…” Hannibal begged, and Will cooed and pushed in.  Hannibal cried out from intensity, his body eagerly sucking Will in to seal around him and lock them together.  Hannibal shuddered and came, deep groans reverberating through his chest.  The feel of his pleasure drove Will over the edge; since their bonding they always climaxed together, the pleasure of one driving the other.  He moaned as desire pulsed through his body, waves and waves of heat pouring out of him and into his mate, his cock pumping and his nerves shivering with intensity.

              He collapsed on top of Hannibal, releasing his hands to wrap his arms tightly behind his shoulders.  Hannibal immediately held him back, and they clung to each other, their arms holding their bodies close, as if they were not locked together, as if they could be separated.

              Will spread gentle kisses over Hannibal’s face, and he returned them, their lips trying to express what could not be expressed; the deep, infinite need they had to be together; the unbreakable bond that tied them more tightly than their bodies could ever imitate.

              With disappointment, Will felt his knot start to recede.  Often, he found himself missing the passion of Hannibal’s heat; being locked together for hours, not minutes; truly losing themselves in each other, free of the world, free of their minds, nothing but their deep need to be one.

              “One more month.” Hannibal comforted, stroking his fingers through Will’s hair.  “It is an experience that will return to us many times, Will.”

              Will’s only answer was to purr and snuggle Hannibal close to himself before sleep took them, tangled in each other’s arms.

 

* * *

              Jack woke up with metal shackles around his wrists, lying on a dirty mattress beside a concrete wall, to which the shackles were chained.  He yanked on them as hard as he could, but the craftsmanship was excellent.  These would not be pulled loose for a good twenty years.

              His eyes darted around the room to discover he was in what must have been the basement.  The walls were made of cinderblocks, the floor of concrete.  It was dirty, stained, dried paths of blood leading to a drain in the center.

              Standing above the drain was Will, and only Will.  He was sharpening a knife; a hunting knife, against a steel rod.  He looked up when he heard Jack’s chains rattle when he sat up.

              His eyes burned like black coals as they bored into Jack’s skull.

              “Hello, Jack.”

              He turned and put the sharpening rod down on a surface that looked half like a workbench and half like a kitchen counter.  The tools scattered atop it didn’t seem to belong together.  A skillsaw.  A saws-all.  Then butcher knives.  A vice, and beside it, a cutting board.

              Will turned back to face Jack, still holding the knife in his hands.  A hunting knife, Jack realized.

              “So I see your bond has become real.” Jack said.  Will’s smile was carefree and almost sweet, a blush coming to his cheeks.

              “Yes, finally.” Will said.  Jack set his jaw.

              “So then it wasn’t real during the trial.”

              “Not an ounce.”

              Jack’s eyes fell to the floor, but the dried streams of blood were not something he wanted to look at, so he raised his eyes back to Will again.

              “You fought to keep him out of prison _unbonded_?” Jack asked. 

              Will laughed.  A real, genuine, yet dark and creepy laugh, his head thrown back with a reckless abandon that was not the Will Graham Jack knew at all.

              He calmed and walked towards Jack, gesturing with the knife as he spoke.

              “After all this time, do you still not see?” Will spat, his expression suddenly dark.  His mood swings were unsettlingly erratic.  His wrist flashed forward and Jack felt the very sharp tip of the blade pressing up under his chin.

              “Tell me who you think I am, Jack.” Will said.

              Jack steeled his nerves and looked directly into Will’s eyes.

              “You’re an FBI agent.  A lover of the law.  You started your career as a police officer and have devoted hundreds of hours of your life to stopping criminals…”

              Will’s anger appeared almost instantly.  The punch to Jack’s cheek made his head snap to the right, though he was grateful the blade was gone.

              “ _You_ devoted hundreds of hours of _my life_ to stopping criminals.” Will sneered. 

              “I asked you if you wanted to stop, Will…”

              “I wasn’t _able_ to stop!” he screamed, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.  “Tell me Jack, _what am I?”_ he shouted, holding his hands out wide, the right one still clutching the hunting knife.  “Do you know what I dream of?  Do you know what I see?  Do you know the images and emotions and _delicious_ things that rattle through my brain, all day, all night long?  And don’t you dare say Hannibal put those there, Jack.  _You_ put them there.  I tried to fight them, but you just put more, and more, and _more_.”

              Jack wasn’t stupid enough to interrupt Will during his tirade, so he said nothing, though his brow may have furrowed with more worry than he’d intended.  It was obvious to him that Will had lost his mind…

              “Every murder that I observed became _mine_.” Will said, his voice hushed as he stalked forward again to lean his face very close to Jack’s.  Jack didn’t back away, not even when their noses brushed.  “Every murderer I felt became _me_.  I couldn’t find my voice amongst them all.  I was lost.  I was drowning.”

              “Will, I’m sorry…”

              Will snorted.

              “No you aren’t.”

              Jack’s heart felt saddened.  He tried his best to show it on his face.

              “Yes, I truly am…”

              Will’s grip on his chin was vice-like.  Jack was certain he would bruise.

              “You tried to keep my omega from me.”

              Jack struggled to keep his pulse from racing.  He did his best to appear calm; to keep any of his Alphan instincts from releasing any pheromones that would antagonize Will further.

              “He wasn’t your omega at the time.” Jack said simply. 

              Will only snorted and took a step back.  He yanked a wooden chair from beside the work table and slammed it on the floor in front of Jack, before sitting in it roughly, flicking the hunting knife open and shut expertly with his right hand.

              “Do you know how many people I’ve killed?” Will asked flippantly.

              “I…have some idea.” Jack said.

              Will snorted again.

              “Do you know how many people I killed _before_ I bonded to Hannibal?”

              Jack was silent.  Will’s eyes darted to his face and burned into him.

              “How many, Jack?”

              Will’s stare was thick and laden with anger.  Jack knew he’d better say _something_.

              “I don’t know…”

              “Garret.” Will said, and Jack nodded.

              “Yes, that was to protect Abigail…”

              “Randall.”

              Jack nodded again.

              “Right, but that was self-defense…”

              “That’s what I told you at the time.” Will said.  Jack froze.

              “Hannibal’s twisted your memories, Will…”

              Will rolled his eyes.

              “Chiyoh’s prisoner.” he said.  Jack furrowed his brow.  “That was in Lithuania.” Will clarified.  
              “You went to Lith…”

              “Francis.” Will said.

              “He was a dangerous serial…”

              “Louise.”

              Jack’s mouth snapped shut.  That name sounded familiar to him.  Louise…

              His eyes grew wide.

              “The jewelry store clerk.”

              Will grinned.

              “I smashed her head in with a hammer.”

              Jack gaped at him.

              “Before the trial?”

              Will’s grin spread wider.

              “Hannibal didn’t even help.  He just watched.  We fucked after.”

              It seemed Jack finally had nothing to say.

              Will held the knife up to the light and examined it, as if it somehow held answers.

              “I knew who Hannibal was before anyone.” Will said.  “I _saw_ him, because of all the things that a person can recognize, it is easiest to recognize yourself.”

              Jack’s anger had abated completely now, and was being slowly replaced by fear.  For the first time, perhaps ever, he was actually listening to what Will was telling him.

              “The reason you can understand killers so well is because you are one.” Jack said.

              Will’s eyes snapped to his face with delight.

              “You have always been one.” Jack added, his voice softer.  Will’s smile grew wider.

              “Just wait until I show you, Jack.” he said.

              He turned and walked towards the far side of the room, where Jack noticed an enormous freezer door.  He yanked it open and disappeared inside, and Jack spent the moments alone frantically looking for a way to get free.  There was a small table beside the bed.  It was wood, and looked flimsy; nothing that could be used for a good weapon.  He searched frantically for anything like a pin or paperclip or _something_ he could use to try to pick the locks around his wrists, but there was nothing.  There was only the mattress, on a standard steel frame.

              Will reappeared, carrying a tied-up woman over his shoulders.  She appeared unconscious, her red curls bouncing as he walked her limp form across the room and he dropped her unceremoniously into the chair.  Her ankles and wrists were bound with rope, her mouth gagged with cloth.  He went back to sharpening his knife.

              Jack’s blood turned cold at the sight of an unconscious Freddie sitting bound in front of him.

              “No…Will, you can’t.”

              He snorted.

              “Actually, I can’t wait.” he said. 

              Jack’s mind raced as he tried to think of something he could do, _anything_ to somehow save Freddie’s life…

              She stirred, and Will’s knife was at her throat.  She jerked awake and struggled.

              “Shhhhh.” Will said, pressing the blade tightly up to her skin, until she froze.  “You’re going to be dinner on the Lecter-Graham table.  You should be honored.”

              Her eyes grew wide with terror.

              “Jack isn’t as smart as you are, Freddie.” Will said.  “He still thinks Hannibal is manipulating me into killing, somehow.  He doesn’t believe I enjoy it.”

              Jack tried to swallow the dry lump that was stuck in his throat.

              “No, I was wrong.  I believe you now, Will.  There’s no need to prove it.  You’re a killer; I understand.  You and Hannibal are perfect mates for each other.”

              Will grinned wide and delighted.

              “I’m so glad you finally understand, Jack.”

              He flicked his wrist so quickly at first, Jack thought he’d merely pulled the knife away.  But then a fountain of blood erupted from Freddie’s slashed throat, a sucking, gurgling noise that had probably been her attempt at a scream reaching Jack’s ears.

              “No!” he cried, jerking against the chains, trying futilely to reach her, the blood splattering across his face.  He looked up to Will, eyes wide with horror, mouth gaping.  What he saw was a face enveloped in rapture, eyes closed in utter bliss.  The hand that held the knife was perfectly steady, having moved so fast that not a speck of blood was on it.

              The door at the top of the wooden staircase creaked open, and light shone down from above.  Jack heard the confident steps of Hannibal as he walked down. 

              Hannibal slinked up behind him and wrapped his arms tenderly around Will’s waist, pressing his chin over his shoulder.

              “I thought you were going to stay upstairs.” Will whispered.

              Hannibal grinned and pressed his mouth softly against Will’s neck.

              “I couldn’t stay away, not when I feel the power of this beauty within you.”    

              Hannibal nuzzled his face into Will’s neck and closed his eyes, though Will didn’t nuzzle back, his eyes still closed, his face still lost in the bliss of the life he had taken.

              Freddie’s limp head lolled to the side, blood gushing down her front, splashing onto the floor. 

              Jack knew that the picture before him would be burned into his memory forever.  Hannibal and Will, cuddling like lovers, faces shrouded in pleasure, the body of Freddie Lounds bleeding out in a chair before them.

              They both opened their eyes at the exact same moment to stare directly into Jack’s mind.

              “Monsters.” he whispered.

              They grinned.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

              “Jack, you really ought to shave…” Hannibal tried.

              “No, I do _not_ have to shave!  After what you just made me watch, see, _after what you just did_ , you think you can go back to worrying about the _niceties_ of life?!?”

              Hannibal looked absolutely taken aback as they stood in the guest room, Jack freshly showered and wearing nothing but a bathrobe…as that was all that had been supplied to him.  He had no idea where his clothes had been taken to.  His clothes that were covered in Freddie’s blood.

              He struggled not to replay the images of her dying in his mind again.  He failed.

              Will gave him a hideously sadistic, gleeful grin.

              _Now you know what you made me feel_ was written so clearly on his face that even Jack could read it.

              “What was it I just did, exactly?” Hannibal asked, his tone _placidly_ calm.

              Jack’s face turned dark with fury. 

              “What you just did?  What you just _did_?  You murdered Freddie right in front of me!  Slit her throat!”

              Hannibal put on an expression of sympathy; even pity.

              “Jack, I’m afraid your imagination has gotten the best of you…”  
              “Oh, you’re right.” he said, snarling, storming forward.  “It was _Will_ who slit Freddie’s throat, most technically.  You just held him while he did it and kissed the blood off his neck afterwards.”

              Hannibal looked _appalled_. 

              Will looked delighted.

              “That’s…a very disturbing fantasy you’ve conjured, Jack.  All we did was give you a tour of our home…”

              “Enough!  Enough!  Get out!  Leave me alone!” Jack screamed.  Hannibal backed away from him, palms up, in peaceful surrender.  Will turned and placed himself between Hannibal and Jack, his arms out in a protective stance, his face suddenly changed from the dark malicious expression he’d had to one of concern and worry.

              “Maybe some rest will do you good.” Will said, his face now matching the concerned tone of his voice.  “Perhaps you would like us to call Bella?”

              Jack’s face turned ashen.

              “No, no no no please don’t, please don’t.” he pleaded, all of his rage vanished suddenly like smoke.  “Please.”

              “Alright, whatever makes you most comfortable.  You are our friend, after all.” Will said.  Jack’s rage tried to rise again, but was overcome by his fear.  He remained silent, and only nodded.

              “I’ll…I’ll sleep.” he said.

              “Alright.  Try to get some rest.” Will responded, his voice gentle and soft as he backed out of the room, face kept towards Jack, in a protective stance with Hannibal behind him.  He slowly pulled the door closed, and Jack listened for the soft click of the lock.  It came, though delayed by a long minute…just long enough to give him hope that they’d forgotten to lock it, and then to take that hope away.

              He crumpled to the floor, face buried on the bed, and sobbed.  He knew Bella must have known something was very, very wrong; his emotions were a tumult of horror that he’d never felt before, and he prayed that she wouldn’t come looking for him.  He prayed she was wise enough to stay at home.

              Even if they killed him, even if he died, if she stayed away her death would be a peaceful one; the kind that happened as her life faded from her at the loss of her mate.  If she _came_ …if _they_ killed her; oh, God, he couldn’t bear to think about what they would do.

             

              He was kept up in the guest room for the passing days, with nothing to do, no way to occupy his mind, other than to stare out the window and watch the wildlife in the back yard.  At times he’d search the room for a way out; for a weapon, a tool, _anything_ , always coming up empty-handed.  Occasionally he’d find a corner where the wallpaper looked like it’d been peeled away and then pressed back again, over and over, an activity done by a bored mind long kept in this room.

              He shivered to think of who that might have been.

              They served him only dinner.  No other food was supplied him.

              The first night, he refused dinner entirely.  He wouldn’t even look at it.  The smell was mouth-watering and made his empty stomach ache painfully, but he would not bend.  He would not eat meat that he knew came from Freddie; the image of her last, terrified breath caught in his mind, her eyes pleading with him to somehow save her.

              By the second night, he was weak from hunger.  His legs shook as he walked.  Hannibal held his arm tightly as he guided him to the table, sharp blade in Will’s hand as he walked in front of them, ready to kill Jack if he disobeyed.

              Once again, his legs were tied to the chair, his hands kept free, and a plate was set before him.

              Once again, through enormous willpower, he refused to eat.

              By the third night, there was no need for Will to threaten him with a knife.  He wouldn’t stand a chance against even one of them in a fight.

              When he was brought to the table, a deep weeping sound escaped his throat as he saw her gorgeous red curls displayed in the center, cascading down from her severed head, sitting on a golden platter with a plum in her mouth. 

              He was roughed into the chair, the perfect coordination of four hands that obeyed the same mind, his legs tied to it once more.

              Jack felt a tear slide down his cheek.  He turned his face away and stared at the far wall while they took their seats at the table.

              “Jack, it will do you no good to starve yourself.” Hannibal said, cutting into the meat on his plate with delicate finesse.  “You must eat.”

              “No.” he managed.

              “Bella must be so worried about you.” Will said, lifting his wine glass to his lips as he swallowed a well-chewed and savored bite.  “You’re practically wasting away.”

              His eyes snapped up to Will’s face and he fumed.

              “ _I won’t eat one of your victims!  I won’t be part of this!”_

              Hannibal tutted and shook his head.

              “He’s become so paranoid and stubborn.  I fear for his health.” Hannibal said, his voice sounding perfectly concerned, while his face reflected no emotion at all.

              “If offering him the finest food on the east coast doesn’t make him want to eat, I don’t know what would.” Will said.  “Perhaps you should make him something simpler?  Soup, maybe?”

              “It isn’t the dish!  It’s the _ingredients_!” Jack screamed.  He rose to his feet, the chair coming along with him as he stood, and grabbed the carving knife that sat on the platter in front of Freddie’s head.  He lunged at Hannibal with it, who merely raised one hand and blocked his arm with his wrist, then allowed Jack to tumble to the floor as his legs remained securely tied to the chair.

              Will sighed and rose, walked around to Jack, and picked him up with ease, placing him gently back in his seat.

              “This isn’t going to get you anywhere.” he whispered into his ear.  “You will eat, or you will starve.  We are perfectly happy with either result.”

              He walked calmly back to his seat and began eating again.  Jack stared down at the plate in front of him, and knew that Will meant it.

              “Jack, please.  Think of Bella.” Hannibal replied.  “Don’t you want her to live?”

              His stomach raged at him.  It didn’t know the difference between what was on his plate and any other meal; all it knew was that his nose smelled something delicious, and it was hungry.

              Jack let his eyes rise up to look once more at Freddie’s face, and he let the tears fall.

              “I’m sorry.” he said, choking back a sob.  He lifted his shaking hands and picked up the silverware beside his plate.  The knife rattled as he cut, fingers shaking with hunger.  They had not afforded any side dishes on his plate.  There were no vegetables for him.  Only Freddie.

              Unable to stop the tears from falling, he lifted a bite of her and put it into his mouth.  He closed his eyes and chewed, swallowing quickly, trying his best to ignore the incredible flavor that bloomed in his mouth.

              “There we go.” Hannibal said.  “I knew he would eventually listen to reason.”

              Across from him, Jack smelled Will’s very potent satisfaction. 

              He continued to let the tears fall, hoping that if nothing else, they would make him congested and not have to taste anything that went into his mouth.

 

* * *

 

              Jack awoke in an unfamiliar bed. He jerked awake and sat up with a start, staring at the strange room, squinting to see by the light that filtered in between the drapes.  He moved his arms and legs, discovering he was not bound…and had strength again, having finally eaten.

              Moving as silently as possible, he rose to his feet, and discovered he had his shoes on.  He looked down at himself and saw he was dressed in his own clothes, washed of Freddie’s blood.  Other than that they were rumpled and sweaty, as if he’d been sleeping in them for days.  He supposed he might have been.

              He slunk to the window and peered out of it.  He was on the ground floor and was looking out at a parking lot.  The smell of the room came to him, and he realized he was in a cheap motel.  He quietly walked towards the door and turned the knob.  It opened.

              He stepped out into the night and took in his surroundings.  His eyes searched for either Hannibal or Will, but there was no one.  He hurried towards the main office and slipped inside.  The clerk looked up, a young man with dirty hair who looked bored out of his mind.

              “Where am I?” he asked.

              The kid yawned.

              “Welcome to Pebble Creek Lodge, last stop before Virginia…”

              “We’re in Maryland?” Jack asked, brow furrowed.

              He nodded.

              Jack reached into his pocket and found his cell phone.  He dialed Bella.

              “Jack?” she asked, her voice full of worry.  He melted at the sound, and immediately felt her relief at feeling his.

              “Where are you?”

              “I’m alright.  They held me for a week, but I’m alright.  They’ve let me go.” he said.

              “Why would they do that?”

              He stared at the counter, unable to stop the heavy feeling of dread that sank in his stomach like a boulder.

              “I don’t know.” he confessed.  “I have to go; I have to call Purnell.  I just wanted you to know I was alright.” he said.  He hung up without giving her a chance to say anything more, and called the director of the FBI.

 

* * *

             

              True to form, the FBI pounded their door down a day after they had released Jack.  Will shoved Hannibal behind him and growled ferociously, snarling like any sane enraged Alpha would if their territory had been invaded.  They tasered him, and cuffed him, and Hannibal curled into the corner in a display of fear and submissiveness.  He was led gently to the police car, not even handcuffed, according to protocol for arresting an Alpha and his bonded.  He was seated in the back of the police car beside Will’s unconscious form, where he made an excellent show of fawning over Will with concern, whimpering into his neck with worry.

              They tore up the house from top to bottom.  Jack stood in the foyer, watching the proceedings, directing where they should look and for what.

              “What did you find in the bedroom?” he asked, but the techs only shrugged and shook their heads, empty-handed.

              “Is it not exactly as I described?” he said, marching up the stairs to the room where he’d been held for a week. 

              “It is, sir.” one of them said.  “But it’s just a normal bedroom.”

              “No, the door…” he said, turning, and realized that there was a new door.  A normal one.  One that didn’t lock from the outside.

              “They switched the door.” he stated.  “Doesn’t matter.  The basement is where most of the evidence is.”

              “Yes, sir.”

              The forensics team searched for over an hour, so trusting of simply Jack’s word as they were.  He kept asking about what they found, growing more and more frustrated as the answer continually returned to him as ‘nothing’.  Finally, Jack marched down the stairs himself…only to find a finished basement, complete with carpeted floor, walls, a couch and billiard table, and a very nice-looking oak bar with fine wines and beers lining the walls.

              “They rearranged it.” Jack said.  “But the freezer in the back…”

              “Is full of beef and pork.” one of the techs said, having come prepared to test the meat they found.  “It’s very elaborate, but it’s what one would expect from a chef as accomplished as Hannibal…”

              “No!  You’re just not looking hard enough!  Check in the drain!” Jack cried.  Kade stood in the corner, arms folded across her chest, face set in displeasure.

              “I have, sir…”

              “Not the one in the freezer!  The one in the floor, right here!” Jack shouted, pulling out his pocket knife and driving it into the carpet in the middle of the room.

              “Jack…” Kade warned, but he ignored her, tearing up the carpet, several feet of it, the sound of the ripping echoing in the room that had fallen silent, as they all stared at Jack.

              He revealed nothing but pristine tile beneath.

              “It’s beneath the tile!  They tiled over it!” he shouted.  “Get me a hammer!”

              “Jack…”

              “A _hammer!_ ” he screamed, and someone handed it to him, and he began pounding the floor, cracking the tile, tossing the shattered pieces several feet across the room.

              He ripped up tile after tile, revealing nothing but fresh cement.

              “It’s here, the drain is here.  We just need to get a jack-hammer…”

              “Jack! Enough!” Kade shouted, stepping forward and putting her hand firmly on the raging Alpha’s wrist.  “That is enough.  There is no evidence here.”

              “But there _was_ …” he cried, shaking, dropping the hammer to the floor.

              Kade looked up at the room and nodded once.

              “You are all dismissed.  Dawson, begin writing an apology to Will Lecter-Graham for the destruction of his home, and let them back in.”

              Jack raged.

              “No, no!  It was here, they killed Freddie here!  I saw them do it!” he screamed.  Kade gently pressed her hand to Jack’s shoulder.  He snarled and swung at her with his fist, knocking her to the ground.  Several of her officers rushed to her aid, two of them tasering Jack until his body fell slumped to the floor.

 

              Kade was sitting at her desk, resting her forehead on her fingers, trying to fight the headache that staring at paperwork for hours had caused.  Her desk phone rang and she ignored it, but then her work cell rang almost immediately, and she sighed.

              “Yes?” she said.

              “I’m so sorry to bother you, Ma’am, but there is something you really, really need to see. Please read your email immediately.”

              She sighed again, and clicked on her email, opening the link to Tattlecrime’s website.

              _Exclusive Video of FBI Agent Going Mad_ read the title.  Wonderful.  Somehow they’d gotten a leak of Jack’s behavior in the base…

              Her thoughts all halted when she saw Freddie Lounds begin speaking, alive and well, hiding inside the garden of what looked to be the back of the Graham-Lecter estate.

              “Here I am, investigating the lives of a known serial killer and his mate after their trial, to see how post-crime life is affecting them.” she said softly into the camera.  “I’ve hidden cameras and microphones throughout their house.  It seems they have a guest visiting for dinner; Jack Crawford of the FBI.  Perhaps he is here to apologize.” she said.

              Kade’s face grew hard as ice.

              The video then cut to the bedroom where Jack had insisted he’d been held against his will.  He was wearing a bathrobe, and Hannibal was speaking calmly to him, his face nothing but worry for his friend, who was screaming about how they’d killed Freddie.

              “Here is Jack, ranting about how they have killed me.” Freddie’s voice came as an overlay to the scene.  “It is a sad thing, to watch a man lose his mind.  Hannibal and Will don’t seem ready to accept it.  They think Jack getting some rest will solve the situation, the poor things.”

              Kade’s face began to melt from anger to pity as she watched.  Jack really had lost it.  He wasn’t doing this merely to cause her grief.

              “I wasn’t able to get a visual in the dining room, but here we have audio.” she said.  Kade listened to the conversation with a breaking heart.  It consisted of Hannibal and Will trying to gently prod Jack to eat, and his refusal, on his crazy belief that they were feeding him people.

              She slammed her laptop closed, having seen enough.  She dialed her assistant.

              “Martin, where did this video post from?” she asked.

              “From Tattlecrime’s headquarters.  We’ve done our research, Ma’am.  It’s genuine.”

              She sighed deeply a third time, and leaned her head forward in exhaustion.

             

              Hannibal and Will were curled up on the couch, reading the apology from the FBI that practically begged them not to sue, when the phone rang.

              “Ah, Miss Purnell.  Yes.” Will said into the phone.  “Mm-hmm.  Well, we’re as upset about it as you are.  Jack was… _is_ a good friend.” he said in his most Hannibal-like tone.  “No, we…yes.  Well it is very upsetting.  We don’t want to sue; but we do desire something be done for Jack.  He needs help.”

              Will’s eyes darted up to meet Hannibal’s, and his heart sang at the mischievousness that he saw reflected in them.  It was all working so perfectly.  Together, they had been able to almost _exactly_ predict Jack’s actions, and the response of the FBI, to the point of manipulating their desired outcome. He brought Hannibal’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it with affection.

              “Yes…yes.  I should hope so.  A psychological evaluation would be most appropriate.  May I suggest a very good former colleague of Hannibal’s?  She’s also a friend to Jack, and speaking to a friend might be beneficial for him.”

              Will listened intently to Kade as he brought Hannibal’s fingers to his lips, kissing the tip of each one slowly and reverently.

              “Yes, thank you.  We’re very grateful.” he said, and hung up.

              “You are a devious, horrible beast.” Hannibal said.  Will growled with pleasure and crawled atop him, devouring Hannibal’s lips with his mouth. 

 

* * *

 

              Alana sat at her desk dressed as neat as a pin, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, her deep red suit accenting her lips perfectly.  Jack sat on her patients’ couch in handcuffs, hands folded together, three days’ worth of scruff on his face, clothes disheveled.

              “Alana, please don’t do this.”

              She didn’t respond for a moment, the only sound in the room that of her pen as it scratched over the paper, her writing pointed and deliberate.

              “I don’t have a choice, Jack.” she said, and in that one sentence he heard everything she was trying to say and couldn’t, because of the camera that was pointed at them, recording her session.

              “They’ve threatened you.  Or your family.  Your son, they’ve threatened to hurt your son.  Alana, if you tell the truth, if you come forward…”

              Her eyes flashed up to him with pain and ferocity.

              “You cannot protect us from monsters that cannot be seen, Jack.” she said, regret and sadness in her voice.  She was being incredibly careful with her words.  They were probably watching, he realized.  As was Kade.

              “Okay, fine.  I’m crazy.  I’m insane.  I’ll admit it.  I’ll get treatment.  But there’s no reason to lock me up, I’m not violent…”

              She put her pen down and folded her hands across her desk. 

              “You attacked your previous supervisor with a hammer.”

              He stared at her, mouth hanging open in shock.

              “Is that what she said?”

              “She, and several other witnesses who were present.”

              Jack stared at the floor, eyes darting back and forth, thinking, trying to remember.

              “No, I didn’t, I _didn’t_!  I only tried to punch her, I…”

              Alana’s face was pained, and he realized his mistake.  Admitting that was not much better.

              “I’m sorry, Jack.” Alana said.  “You will be allowed regular visits from Bella, plus conjugal visitation for ruts and heats.  Other than that, you will be contained to your cell, where as many comforts from home will be provided as I can manage on my budget…”

              Jack stopped listening to what Alana was saying and began talking over her, shouting for her to reconsider, raising his voice until he was screaming.  He turned his head to see orderlies walking into the room and raged, attacking them with desperation, but they easily subdued him with an injection and he was dragged off, bound and unconscious, to the exact cell Hannibal had once occupied.

 

* * *

 

              “Your mind is more brilliant than I ever could have conceptualized.” Hannibal purred into Will’s ear as they lounged on the couch, Will laying on Hannibal’s chest. 

              “Keep going.” Will said.  He felt Hannibal _preen_ at his request.  His fingers moved up to stroke through Will’s curls, playing with them as they entwined around his fingers.

              “To be able to predict Jack’s actions _so_ precisely that it only took us five days to get the footage we needed to match Freddie’s elaborations…”

              Will snorted.

              “Jack’s mind is not difficult to get inside of.” Will replied, his fingers tracing over the hand Hannibal had resting in Will’s lap.  “There has never been a mind I couldn’t understand; but Jack wasn’t even a challenge.”

              Hannibal’s lips parted to suck the tip of Will’s ear into his mouth, and Will purred at the heat that bloomed there.  They had both been feeling exceptionally affectionate these last few days.  Hannibal’s heat was almost upon them; but this time, they had nothing at all to fear.

              “Not to mention the small matter of being able to renovate the entire basement in less than 24 hours.” Will said.  “My plan would have been useless if it weren’t for your ability to procure such fine construction talent, on such short notice.”

              “Money can get you a lot of things.” Hannibal said, his voice full of breath as he deeply inhaled Will’s scent.  He smelled even more delicious than usual, the aroma of his skin sending chills down Hannibal’s spine with every breath in.

              “More important than money are connections, which you have ample of.” Will purred, rolling over so that he was lying face down on Hannibal’s chest.  The more possessive position was not lost on Hannibal in the least, and he tilted his head back, exposing his neck in a not-so-subtle gesture of submission.

              “I’m honestly surprised at how many social connections you have, considering how many of them you’ve eaten.”

              The affection Hannibal felt in Will when he spoke made a long, flirtatious purr emanate deep from within his throat.

              “If a person is useful to me, I tend to allow them to live.” he said, and Will snorted a laugh, pressing his lips heavily to Hannibal’s neck, licking his tongue over his scarred claim mark.

              “I said ‘tend to’.” Hannibal defended, but Will did not reply, his lips too busy sucking his neck.

              “We have gotten our revenge on our three most hated enemies.” Hannibal whispered, turning his own lips to travel down Will’s neck in long, wet kisses.  “Are there any others you wish to destroy?”

              Will groaned at the words, and at the lips, a heady rush pulsing through him.  He tried to think about the trial, or about anything, but it was becoming harder to focus.

              “I only wanted Jack and Freddie.” he said.  “Bedelia was for you.”

              “Mmmm, the way you slashed Freddie’s throat…” Hannibal purred, and Will inhaled involuntarily deep as the scent of his omega’s slick wafted through his nostrils.  His fingers curled into Hannibal’s pants, nearly tearing the fabric.  Hannibal’s lips on his throat were such a tease he could hardly stand it.

              Will growled low in his throat and rose to his feet, extending his hand down for his omega to take.

              “Yes, Alpha.” Hannibal said, delight in his eyes as he took the hand offered to him and rose.  Will pulled Hannibal strongly to his feet and then led him towards the stairs, exuding lustful hormones as he walked, watching the effect of them on Hannibal as they drifted across him.

              “Alpha.” Hannibal purred, his eyes focusing solely on Will, ignoring the rest of his surroundings.  Will pulled him into their bedroom and began removing Hannibal’s clothes, still mindful of setting them down properly, hanging Hannibal’s suit jacket over the back of the desk chair. 

              “You are so…considerate…of my wishes.” Hannibal breathed, a light sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead as every one of his breaths was bathed in Alpha pheromones.

              “Your wishes are mine.” Will said, undoing Hannibal’s tie and draping it over the jacket, his fingers returning to undo the buttons on Hannibal’s shirt.  “All of you is mine.”

              A low, pleased groan escaped Hannibal’s lips, and Will pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor.  Hannibal moved to pick it up, but Will stopped him with a forceful hand under his chin.

              “My wishes are also yours.” Will said.  Their eyes locked upon each other, and behind Hannibal’s was a flash of his beast, answering Will in a challenge.  Will bared his teeth in a snarl, reminding the beast that it was not the only one.  It abated, and Will watched Hannibal’s pupils dilate as his heat came upon him full-force.

“Alpha.” he groaned, his knees buckling as his body attempted to present itself.  The scent Hannibal gave off slammed into Will’s mind, and the desire to take Hannibal right there on the floor was powerful.

              Instead he caught him and helped him remain upright.

              “On the bed, my love.” he said, his voice gravelly and low.  Hannibal obeyed immediately, crawling onto the bed on all fours.  Will’s hands flew to his waist and yanked his trousers, underwear, and socks off in one pull, leaving him bare and prone on the bed, head pressed to the duvet, ass high in the air, wet and slick and ready.

              Will groaned and rushed to tear his own clothes off.  He rose over Hannibal and pressed his chest against his back, wrapping his arms tightly across his abdomen.  Hannibal whined at the contact, pressing his ass back against Will’s pelvis, writhing against his cock which was pressed against his thigh.

              “Alpha, please.  Please take me.” he cooed, rocking his body gently back and forth.  Will opened his lips and licked over Hannibal’s neck, taking in the scent of him, breathing him in.

              “Always.” Will said.  Hannibal whined in pleasure, and Will slid his hips back to line himself up.  He plunged in deep, Hannibal’s perfectly slick, hot ass welcoming him.  Hannibal groaned and melted into the bed, while Will’s eyes rolled back into his head from pleasure.

              “Ohhh, yes.” Hannibal purred, and Will couldn’t have agreed more.  He rose onto his knees and started to thrust, the pleasure driving him in deeper, pulling him to move faster.  With every thrust in Hannibal groaned his delight.  The sound of his pleased voice, along with the emotions of his need and desire rolling through Will drove him in harder. 

              Soon he was fucking, pounding into his omega with the strength of all of his muscles, now finely tuned and powerful from months of being washed in Alpha hormones.  His fingers clasped Hannibal’s hips and he pounded, heat and want and need driving him in, Hannibal’s delicious groans and pleas for more making his ears ring.

              “You like my cock?” Will said, heat flushing to his cheeks at the obscene sentence, though he found himself unable to regret saying it.

              “Yes, Alpha.  Mmm, yes.” Hannibal replied, his voice shaking with each of Will’s thrusts forward.

              “You want to take it for me?”

              “Oh, yes.” Hannibal purred.  “Please, let me feel it.”

              Will’s blood burned from lust as his heart raced faster, driving himself forward with need.

              “You’ll give me anything I want?” he asked, unsure where such a phrase even came from in his hormone-clouded mind.

              “Yes, Alpha, anything!”

              “Let me fuck you, whenever I want it?”

              “Yes, yes!”

              “Cum for me, whenever I ask?”

              “Yes!”

              “Let me mate you?  Give me children?”

              “Yes!” Hannibal screamed.

              Will both smelled and felt Hannibal’s pleasure, and it doubled over to multiply his own desire.               “Mine.” Will growled, plunging his cock into his mate. He only lasted a few more seconds before a wave of desperation plowed into him from Hannibal, followed by another desperate whine.

               They both screamed from pleasure.  Will’s fingers dug into Hannibal’s shoulders, clawing at him, pulling him closer as they orgasmed together, too soon, before Will’s knot had time to form.  Will pressed his mouth down to Hannibal’s neck and sucked hard over his claim-mark, his seed pouring into Hannibal and then spilling out of him, without a knot to keep it in. 

              Will trembled and rested for a few seconds, before the scent and _need_ overwhelmed him again.  He continued licking Hannibal’s neck as he started thrusting once more.

              “Yes, yes!” Hannibal screamed.  “Alpha, take me!”

              Will growled and fucked, his body blooming with desire and heat.  He arched his back, pressing his palms down onto Hannibal’s back, pinning him to the bed.  Hannibal purred.

              “You like that?  You like me holding you down?”

              Hannibal only purred harder, his eyes half-lidded, lust-drunk, his lips hanging open as drool slid from the corner.

              “Mine.” Will said, and Hannibal closed his eyes in ecstasy at the word.  He turned his head to expose his claim-mark, his ears flushed nearly purple from lust.

              “Yes, yours.” Hannibal cooed.

              “Who do you kill for?” Will demanded, driving his cock deep into Hannibal’s body, feeling his knot starting to form at the base.

              “You.  For you.” Hannibal said.

              “Yes, my vicious beast.” Will said, lifting a thumb to trace over Hannibal’s mouth.  “No one is safe between your teeth but me.”

              Hannibal nodded, words becoming lost to him as Will’s knot began to stretch his entrance.

              “Open for me.” Will said, and Hannibal nodded, his eyes unfocused, sweat glistening on his skin.

              “Take me, Alpha.” he whimpered, spreading his legs further and attempting to lift his hips against Will’s weight.  “Please.”

              Will stroked an affectionate hand over Hannibal’s face and pushed.  Hannibal screamed from pleasure, his body sucking Will into him with powerful force.  Will’s elbows gave out on him as all he could think about was how _good_ it felt.  His body collapsed and they both fell flat to the bed as Hannibal’s body sealed around Will’s knot.  Will’s hips continued to attempt to thrust, yanking Hannibal down the bed each time he tried to pull out.  His body burned with lust; everything was fire, until Hannibal turned his head and whispered.

              “I killed them all for you.” Hannibal purred.  Will screamed and his orgasm exploded from him, white light flashing behind his eyes.  His teeth sank deep into Hannibal’s neck, the flow of blood rushing down his throat and he swallowed hungrily.  Hannibal cried out from the intensity, his fingers clawing at the bed, a second orgasm tearing through him as he felt Will’s release spread deep into his body.

              “Yes, yes, mate me.” he whispered, Will unable to reply as his orgasm continued, his eyes rolled back into his head from pleasure.  His body continued its little thrusts, every one of his muscles driving him into his mate, his teeth clamped relentlessly into Hannibal’s flesh.

              Will collapsed, exhausted, panting heavily through his nose.  His knot was still perfectly hard and swollen, and the thought of removing his teeth felt like death.  Hannibal trembled beneath him, his breaths fast and rough.  Will slid his arms under his belly and pulled him tight against his body, holding him close, trapping them together.  He felt Hannibal relax with comfort into his arms.

              Will tensed again, everything pouring from him in a rush, orgasm after orgasm, until he lost count.  Some of them were his; some were Hannibal’s; there was no way to tell the difference.  There was no difference.  They were one, as they were always meant to be, and for a few short, blissful hours, the line between them was more than blurred; it was gone.

 

* * *

 

              The walls of the BSHCI echoed as a pair of expensive Italian dress shoes clicked against the tiled floor.  The work boots that stepped in front of them hardly made a sound, so that when Jack lifted his exhausted head, he had expected only one visitor.

              He should have known better, he realized.

              “Hello, Jack.”

              Will’s face was unforgiving stone.  He wore the same placidity that Jack was so used to seeing on Hannibal; and yet, somehow on Will it was even more terrifying.  Jack found himself unable to look Will in the eye, and instead turned his gaze to Hannibal, who was wearing an equally misplaced, equally terrifying gleeful smile.

              “Will.” Jack said.  “Hannibal.”

              None of them spoke for a long moment.  Jack didn’t bother to rise from his cot, his back slumped, his elbows resting on his knees.

              “You’ve won.” he said, staring at the wall across from him, not desiring to look at either of them.  “You’ve proven yourselves a better opponent than I.” he said.  They didn’t respond.  “There is no need for you to come here to gloat.”

              “On the contrary.” they both said, their tones and inflections equivalent.  The perfect matching of their voices sent a terrible chill down Jack’s spine.  He turned his head and forced himself to look at them.

              “I don’t know how I didn’t see it.” he said, his eyes falling to Will’s, a gaze that had once been full of so much caring and morality and now…was impenetrably cold.

              “You had me fooled, Will.  You had us all fooled.”

              “You didn’t see it because you didn’t want to see it, Jack.” Will said, his tone suddenly very like his old self, bitter and accusatory.  “I told you.  Alana told you.  Hannibal told you.”

              “Fine.” Jack snapped, resting his forehead in his palms and staring at the floor.  “You win, and you also get to say ‘I told you so.’  You came to gloat.  You’ve done it.  Now leave.”

              Hannibal stepped forward from behind Will, his form looming in front of Jack’s bars, intimidating even with cold steel between him and Jack.

              “We didn’t come to gloat, Jack.” he said, his tone utterly polite.  “We merely came to share our joy.  You were once one of our dearest friends, and so we felt we should let you know in person.”

              Jack glared at the floor.

              “Know.  What.” he asked, knowing he was going to despise the answer.

              “Why, that there’s a little Lecter-Graham Junior on the way.” Hannibal said. 

              Jack’s head snapped up to glare at them, his eyes flicking down to stare at Hannibal’s abdomen for the briefest of moments.

              “A child brought into the world and raised by the two of you would be a hideous monster, a blight on mankind.” he spat.

              They beamed.

              “I should hope so.” Hannibal said.  “Thank you, for your blessing.  It means the world to us.”

              He turned, the click of his heels echoing down the hall as he walked, the silence of Will’s footsteps behind him as Will followed Hannibal out. 

              They emerged into the sun, both walking hand-in-hand out of the BSHCI, perfectly free of all bonds save for the one with each other.

              “I think he took it rather well.” Hannibal said.  Will could feel their glee and triumph at Jack’s suffering, and was unable to tell whether it was more his or Hannibal’s.  It was theirs.

              “We’ll make certain to send him a birth announcement.” Will said, placing his hand affectionately over Hannibal’s abdomen, still perfectly flat, too soon to show a change.

              “Absolutely.  We wouldn’t want our dear friend Jack to miss out on life, even if he is locked up in a mental institution for the rest of his life.”

              “No one to break him out.” Will said. 

              “No one to hear him scream.” Hannibal replied.  They grinned at each other and Will pulled Hannibal into a kiss, letting his joy at their revenge free, holding nothing back now, no reservations.

              They pulled back and gazed into each other’s eyes, each becoming lost for a long moment in the mind of the other, neither wanting to find their way out.

              “Beautiful.” they said, and smiled together, perfectly bound, never to be separate again.

             

             

             

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, to ALL of you, who left me comments throughout, who stuck with this to the end, who encouraged me to keep writing this. You are all lovely, wonderful people, your comments bringing light to my heart and typing to my fingers. : ) 
> 
> If you want to talk more about the story (or about anything Hannigram), come visit me on my tumblr [evenunevenme](http://evenunevenme.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> A TREMENDOUS special thanks to [victorine](http://victorineb.tumblr.com/) , the world's most glorious beta-reader, supporter, and cheerleader.


	14. Chapter 14

Welp, I just did about the most embarrassing thing an author can do.  I posted the ROUGH DRAFT VERSION of the last chapter, and didn't notice for TWO DAYS.  Ugh.  So I posted the correct version now, and I hope anyone out there would re-read it, just to get the right version, excuse me while I die of shame.


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